After the Storm
by unlikely2
Summary: Summer of the sixth year. Harry's PoV. A short holiday for Harry, Snape and Tonks until JKR gets her next bit of 'light reading' published. (Complete).
1. Privet Drive

'Looking for this?' demanded Dudley.

'Give it back.'

'No.'

Dudley's powerful hands broke Harry's wand in two.

Such was his shock that he simply couldn't react fast enough. His cousin Dudley was still enormous, but a year of strenuous sport meant that by now, a large proportion of Dudley's bulk was muscle. Harry was seized and thrown into a wall and then, half stunned, hurled downstairs. Catching the banister, he succeeded in slowing his decent, but not enough to avoid a collision with a china cabinet, the glass of which broke into sharp and shining pieces. Bleeding, he found his glasses and put them on. As he staggered to his feet, Dudley's arm went around his neck while his own arm was twisted up behind him. The arm around his neck became a hand upon his shoulder and his own arm was forced higher.

'Struggle and I'll break it,' said Dudley.

Harry did not struggle. He allowed himself to be pushed out of the front door, through the garden and along Privet Drive. Finally the two boys reached the path that lead to the derelict industrial estate, long scheduled for redevelopment. Harry knew then that he was in real trouble.

Dudley's grip on his arm had been unrelenting. Harry tried to assess the damage that he had sustained. There would certainly be more, he realised, as he was dragged out of the brittle sunlight, through a broken door, into the stifling gloom of an old workshop. Around the edges were haphazard piles of broken things and empty containers. When Harry was dropped onto the rectangles of hazed brightness from a filthy skylight, the pain from the shattered glass was startling. He rolled over to face his cousin, to find Dudley's face twisted with hatred.

Then began the rain, sounding like single blows upon the aged structure, increasing in frequency. The light on the floor began to ripple. There was a flash and the sound of thunder.

'Freak.' muttered Dudley. Do you care that my mother cries herself to sleep every night? She didn't ask for her sister to be what she was. She didn't ask for her to marry that Potter, and she certainly didn't ask for you! All these years we've put up with you. You're not even grateful. You haven't had surgery on your spine. You haven't lain in a hospital bed, wondering if you'd be crippled for life, while the nurses whispered about your abnormality.' He turned away and started to explore the piles of rubbish. Finally he found a large, nail studded piece of broken timber. He turned back to Harry.

'My mum might be terrified of Dumbledore but I'm not.' He sounded more determined. 'You're supposed to be safe in our house. Well, guess what? You're not, and you won't be returning to Privet Drive.' Wielding his improvised club, Dudley came closer. Heart pounding, Harry dragged himself back, leaving red smears on the dusty concrete.

Again a thunderous roar echoed through the gloom, but now different in quality and much closer. Dudley turned to find that the patch of broken sunlight from the skylight held a dark figure on a motorbike. The bike darted forward, towards Dudley who stepped back, a manoeuvre repeated until he tripped over some junk and fell backwards.

'Get on,' hissed the rider. He didn't wait. The bike turned and smoothly accelerated towards the door and then Harry felt a blow to his side and heard the ringing of dropped metal. _Dudley must have thrown something,_ he realised as the bike emerged from darkness into rain and the cooling breeze of passage.

They stopped in the shelter of trees beside the park. Harry dismounted awkwardly and turned to his rescuer who kicked out the bike's stand and lifted away her helmet. Shoulder length dark hair was pushed back from wary brown eyes. 'Do you want to tell me what that was about?' she said.

'Not really,' Harry replied, staring at her, 'but thank you.' He put his hand to his side and found his shirt damp and his fingers red.

'You should go home,' said the girl.

'No,' said Harry, 'that was my cousin: I live with them. I can't go back.'

'Friends?'

'I go to boarding school, they all live miles away.' He looked around. Wasn't someone supposed to be watching him?_ Where were they? After last year . . ._ last year when Dementors had been set upon him.

As if summoned, he felt them: the wrongness of them, the sickening feeling that happiness was not even possible. 'Go,' he said.

She didn't seem to have heard him. Instead, she was looking at something behind him. 'What the hell's that?' she murmured.

Harry turned to follow her eyes and saw two dark shapes gliding towards them. 'Dementors. Go! It's me they're after.' She continued to stare. 'GO!'

Abruptly she seemed to wake up. 'PRAT!' she screamed, seizing his arm. 'GET ON!'

There wasn't time to argue. Harry got on. There was a roar, and they were moving quickly over the rain-soaked tarmac. Harry did not dare to turn around, fearful of unbalancing the bike, which got faster and faster. He bent his forehead to the girl's back and hung on. Harry thought about his Firebolt and it occurred to him that she wasn't really that good with the bike, and then wondered just how he had reached that conclusion. The ride became smoother after they reached the motorway, and the feeling of utter dread subsided. _Lost them,_ thought Harry.

After about twenty minutes she turned off the motorway, onto a country road, and stopped the bike in a lay-by, again under the shelter of trees. He dismounted, and this time she did the same. She removed her helmet and stood swinging it gently while she considered him. Finally held out her hand. 'I'm Jane. Jane Norton.'

'Harry. Just Harry.' Unthinking he held out his own hand and saw her wince at the blood on her fingers. Her other hand reached into an inner pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a mobile phone. 'Call someone.' She handed him the phone and waited.

Harry wiped his fingers on his jeans and carefully pressed the tiny buttons, grateful that Hermione had made him memorise her number. She had also given him ten pound coins. Sometimes it's nice to talk,' she'd said, although he had wondered if she meant that it would be harder to lie. The coins were with everything else at Privet Drive. Except Hedwig. He was glad that she was out and fervently hoped that she would remain so. Finally there was an answer.

'Hello. Could I speak to Hermione Granger?'

Harry was asked to wait. Jane spun around and walked to the middle of the lay-by, out of hearing. As he waited, Jane circled a litterbin, watching it carefully until, apparently reaching some sort of decision, she kicked it, hard. She then started to circle in the other direction.

'I'm sorry. The Grangers are not here. Can I take a message?'

Harry swallowed. 'It's urgent, is there a number I can reach them at?'

'I'm sorry, but they have all gone away and we have no means of reaching them. The locum, however, is excellent. If you are in pain, we have an appointment free this afternoon. ' Harry remembered that the Grangers were Dentists.

Again came the sound of Jane punishing the metal receptacle.

'No, that's ok. Will you tell Hermione that Harry Potter called? I'm alright, and I'm heading for London.' He could always hitchhike. 'Jane,' he called, walking towards her, 'how do you switch this thing off?'

Jane discontinued her assault on the rubbish bin and returned to the trees, looking at him rather oddly. She took the phone, pressed a button and returned it to her pocket. 'Well?'

'The Grangers can't be reached and there's no-one else.'

'What about your school?'

Harry stared at her. If she had seen the Dementors, she couldn't be a muggle. And yet she seemed to know nothing. Perhaps she was a squib and her parents had decided to keep her in ignorance rather than . . . 'I don't know the number.'

'Directory Enquiries?'

'They're not in the book.'

'What will you do?'

'I'll go to London. I've got an address. I can hitchhike.'

Jane just looked at him. 'I'll take you.' She opened one of the bags on the side of the bike and pulled out a plastic raincoat. 'Put this on.' Further rummaging produced a map. 'Where to?'

'You don't have to do this,' said Harry. Abruptly a gust of wind caught the trees overhead and water cascaded over them causing Jane to flinch and then shake herself.

'No?' The raincoat was thrust at him. 'I think I do.'

Harry found King's Cross Station on the map and, from there, the location of the Leaky Cauldron. He pointed it out. 'It might be difficult to find' he said, ' but I can get there from the Station.'

'That's ok, I rarely get lost.'

'Then what were you doing in Little Whinging?'

The expression on her face was indecipherable. 'I got lost.'

&

Leaving the lay-by, Jane did not turn back to the motorway, but followed the country road for a few miles until it reached a slightly more major route, where she turned towards London.

A short time later they came to a large transport café: a cheerful looking place with a couple of trucks and a dozen or so motorbikes in the car park. Jane pulled in and stopped beside them. She reached into her jacket and handed Harry some money. 'Get whatever you want,' she said. 'I'd like a bacon roll and a large cup of tea.' Then she strolled off to talk to a gang of bikers who were contemplating the rain from under an awning.

Harry went into the café and found the toilets. He chose the one marked 'Disabled' and locked the door. Then he stripped off the raincoat and bloody shirt to examine himself. There didn't seem to be any glass in the cuts, which were mostly dry, but punctured skin and a large, ugly bruise marked where Dudley's improvised missile had struck. As he dressed he wondered at Jane's acceptance of the Dementors. He wondered why she had not asked more questions.

When Harry came out of the café, she was sitting alone, at a table under the awning, with two helmets. She raised the new one and grinned. 'Got one.'

Harry put down the tray he was carrying. 'I'll pay you back,' he said.

'No worries.' Jane clearly enjoyed her food, or else she was very hungry. She didn't talk until she had finished. 'Off to the loo,' she said, and went.

Neither was she inclined to talk when she came back 'Okay, Harry?' and then she zipped up her jacket, put on her helmet and walked back out to her bike, where she sat and waited. Harry put his glasses into his pocket, donned the helmet and followed her out.

Lightening twisted while rain fell in dirty grey sheets, soaking his legs almost instantly, getting under the helmet and running down his chest and back and Harry was glad when Jane pulled off the road again. The raincoat had helped but it had not been sufficient and he was wet and very cold. This time she stopped outside a shop with large sign advertising industrial clothing. 'I could do with a new jacket,' Jane announced. Harry felt uncomfortable. She must have noticed that he had been shivering.

The shop wasn't big, and with the sheer amount of stuff piled onto its shelves, it resembled something from Diagon Alley. 'Great,' said Jane, turning to Harry. Then she stopped. 'Harry, are you alright?'

'A bit wet.'

'Harry, get whatever you want. It's not a problem.'

'I'll pay you back.'

'Fine. I am _not_ short of money.' She looked at his battered trainers. 'You could do with a nice set of industrial boots. Steel toecaps. Solid. Decent socks. Work upwards. I love shops like this.' She disappeared between the racks.

Harry decided to take her at her word. A red and grey check work shirt, jeans, socks, underwear and a pair of boots were soon piled onto the counter. Harry found Jane looking at jackets. 'Think I'll stick with what I've got' she told him. 'See anything you like?'

_I'm paying her back_ Harry reminded himself. He took a few minutes to choose a jacket and some waterproof leggings and took these to the counter. 'Do you have a changing room?' he asked the shopkeeper.

'Over there.' The old man pointed. Harry picked up the clothes and went to get changed. He left his old clothes, leaking pinkish fluid, in a bin that he found there.

Jane was waiting in the doorway, leaning into the wall with her phone to her ear. 'Answer the bloody phone you bastard,' she whispered. When she saw Harry she straightened and put the phone away. 'You look like a lumberjack.'

Saying nothing, Harry donned his coat, enjoying its new smell.

'Nothing wrong with being a lumberjack,' teased Jane. He ignored the remark. Good Samaritan or not, she was beginning to annoy him. He would have to apologise to Hermione for thinking that _she _was bossy. As they headed out into the storm he thought that he could hear Jane singing to herself.

&

London was a nightmare of water and traffic but eventually Harry recognised the station. True to her word, Jane had not got lost.

Soon after, as traffic ground to a halt, Jane cut out of and overtook the line of cars. Then she stopped. She half turned and pointed upwards to where the _Morsmordre _hung ghastly in the sky over Diagon alley. Harry leaned out and looked along the road toward the 'Leaky Cauldron.' A man in "muggle clothing'"directed his wand towards the occupants of a car. _Obliviate_ thought Harry.

Then the bike was moving again, crossing the road and returning the way that they had come. Out of sight of the _Morsmordre,_ they pulled in to the kerb and Jane wrenched off her helmet. Harry opened his visor. 'Up to you, Harry,' said Jane, 'or is there somewhere else you'd rather go?' Harry nodded dumbly. Even if the Death Eaters had gone, he didn't trust the Ministry. 'I'll find a garage and we can look at the map where it's dry,' said Jane.

As they rode Harry reached a decision. It wasn't that he actually distrusted Jane, but neither was he prepared to take her to Grimmauld Place. That she could have accidentally arrived just in time to rescue him was just too unlikely. He'd have to lose her.

At the garage Harry offered Jane his helmet. 'Thank you,' he said, 'but I think you've done enough. Give me your address and I'll send you the money for the clothes.'

'You don't trust me.' Jane gave a twisted smile. 'Can't say I blame you.' She stared at the rain dark street. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a notepad and pencil. She scribbled a number and tore off the piece of paper, which she offered to Harry, who took it. 'Call me to let me know when you're safe, or if you have a problem call me,' she insisted. 'By the way, what's the name of your school?'

'St. Brutus Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys,' stated Harry.

She laughed. 'Hogwarts.' Harry stared at her. 'Until I was about eight, I used to believe that my father was a wizard,' confessed Jane, smiling wryly. 'He knows Professor Dumbledore.' If it doesn't work out for you, call me. Sooner or later he has to answer the phone and I can get him to pass on a message. Look, I want to get cleaned up, so I'll be in London for about another hour. After that I'm going home.' She paused. 'If you want to, you can come with me. Although I should warn you, it's in Scotland.' She put away the notepad and pencil and then pulled three twenty-pound notes out from her pocket and offered them to Harry.

'Fortunate,' said Harry, 'that you arrived in Little Whinging just when you did.'

'Right,' said Jane. She reached into the neck of her jacket and pulled up a cord that hung around her neck. Suspended from it was a blue torus of what looked like lapis lazuli. As it caught the light, Harry could see that there was a pentacle inscribed into it. 'Supposedly an extremely powerful magical protection. If you don't mind having your life turned upside down.' Her eyes met his. 'What's changed Harry? Why did I have to rescue you?'

'Voldemort's back.'

'He's been back over a year.'

'But no-one believed it,' said Harry. 'Now they do and he's got no more reason to hide. No reason at all not to kill people.'

Jane rubbed the side of her face. 'I can take you wherever you need to go,' she said quietly. Harry shook his head and held out the helmet. 'Keep it,' she said, 'it will keep off the rain. Worst case, you can hit someone with it.' She thrust the money into the pocket of his jacket. 'Where's your wand anyway?

'Dudley broke it.'

She grimaced sympathetically and stepped back. 'Good luck, "Just Harry",' she said as she set about refuelling the bike and Harry walked out into the rain.

Harry walked back to the last underground station that they had passed. One of Jane's twenty-pound notes gave him a ticket and a pocket full of change. He found the platform and waited, feeling more alone than he could ever remember. To his relief no one seemed inclined to pay any attention to him. He dreaded the thought of the house on Grimmauld Place. _At least_, he consoled himself, _I can find out if Hermione's ok - and the Weasleys. _

&

Confused images and darkness flashed by the windows as he settled into a corner of the carriage and huddled into the warmth of his coat, feeling oddly comforted by it. Three boys had got on at the last stop. Occasionally they glanced towards him but they made no attempt to approach. As the train slowed for his stop Harry stood up and, balancing easily, he found himself gently swinging the helmet as he had seen Jane do earlier. The boys at the other end of the carriage settled back into their seats.

As much as he hated the house that was the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, at least he would be among his own kind. It was with feeling if immense relief that Harry finally arrived at Grimmauld Place and so, when the house failed to appear, he felt betrayed and utterly lost. There was no number twelve. He tried walking backwards and forwards in the rain but nothing at all happened.

Harry had dreaded returning to the house, but now that it refused to appear he was desolate. As he saw it, he didn't have much of a choice: either go back to Diagon Ally and risk the Death Eaters or, more likely, the Ministry of Magic, and after last year he really did not want to do that, or call Jane, whose willingness to back off had made Harry far more inclined to trust her. He turned wearily back toward the underground station where he'd seen a phone.


	2. Who's that girl

She didn't sound surprised when he called her, simply asked where he was and promised to be there as soon as she could. Harry put down the phone. Finding a drinks machine he bought some hot chocolate and went to the station entrance to wait. There had been no letup in the rain. The streetlamps had been on since early afternoon, but now it was becoming properly dark. As Harry watched a single headlight approached and then pulled in to the kerb. Jane lifted her visor and gave him a faint smile. 'Hi, Harry.' He put on his helmet, and wearily climbed onto the bike.

The journey out of London was terrifying and apparently interminable. Once on the M25, Jane kept the bike on the hard shoulder most of the time, and tried to avoid being overtaken by trucks, as every time this happened a bow wave of water forced them further in towards the verge where there was often debris. It felt like London, all over again, only much faster. Finally they turned off onto the M42, where the traffic eased. Harry was beginning to feel very unwell and his back, where he had been hit by Dudley's improvised missile, hurt. He closed his eyes and held on to Jane as the miles passed.

He had no idea how long they had been travelling, or where they were, when Jane directed the bike up off the motorway and into a service station. When they stopped, Harry dismounted and avoided falling only with difficulty. Her back to him, Jane did not notice, and headed off through the rain and dark. He followed her, removing his helmet and letting the water fall into his face, trying to wake up.

Within the darkened building, a shop and a single fast food place were open. Harry bought two coffees and, for Jane, a bacon roll. He, himself, did not feel hungry. _Coming down with something_ he thought, shivering, as he sat in a corner booth of the nearly empty café. Jane found him and sat down with a sigh. She tasted her coffee. 'Yeuck.' She continued to drink it none-the-less.

'Tell me about your father.' Harry sipped his own coffee. It was worse than he'd imagined possible.

'I don't actually know him that well.' Jane put down her cup and took several deep breaths. Finally she spoke. 'Until last year, I lived with my mother. I didn't go to school. She taught me at home. Last year, I was accepted into university, so to celebrate, we went on holiday.' She picked up the cup and then put it down again. 'There was a sailing accident. We were dismasted and I got hit over the head.' Jane's head bowed. 'She rowed the boat ashore. I was all right, so we had supper in the town and then walked back along the beach but next morning she didn't wake up.' Harry could make out what she was saying only with difficulty, he leaned closer. 'She'd had a stroke. I was repatriated, and then I was 'taken into care'.'

'But if you're at university . . .?' Harry broke in.

'I'm sixteen. Academically, at least, I'm bright.' Jane smiled bitterly. 'They tried, I suppose. I didn't help. I ran away and managed to get into an awful lot of trouble in a surprisingly short time. I ended up in an alleyway with a bunch of thugs banging my head off a wall. Jane angrily wiped her hand across her face. 'When I woke up I was back at home, with him. My father.'

Her jaw clenched, and her next few words were uttered through her teeth. 'I was furious with him. I wanted to know where the hell had he been all those years. Miranda, my mother, had believed him dead. And the only explanation I got was a whole load of fairy tales.' She paused and drank some of the dreadful coffee, her eyes distant. 'But, given a choice between him and Social Services . . . he did sort things out. My father is a deeply strange individual, I suppose, being a wizard.' She smiled to herself. 'He absolutely _terrorised _the lawyers in charge of Miranda's estate, and then bitched all the way home about various people's "failure, adequately, to protect a child in their care". He's really not very nice at all, but he is a good man. He will help you.'

She took a bite of her roll, choked and then set it aside. Another sip of coffee caused her to grimace. 'I honestly do believe that this is the worst tasting stuff I have ever attempted to swallow,' she remarked.

Harry snorted. 'I wish I could say the same,' he replied remembering Polyjuice and Skelegro. 'Would you like a soft drink?' He got to his feet.

'Orange juice, please.' She smiled and pulled the phone from her pocket. Harry went and bought orange juice and plain water. He was beginning to feel very thirsty. When he returned she was busy glaring at the phone. 'Still not back,' she said. 'Thank you.' She opened the orange juice and drank it in one. 'Whenever you're ready.'

Harry drank about half the water and then closed the bottle. 'Is there room for this?' he asked.

'Of course.' She looked at him. 'Are you feeling all right? I think this place does rooms if you'd rather.'

'Stop worrying, I'll be fine.' Even to himself, he sounded terse. He got up and made his way outside into the wet and roaring night.

He tried to relax as they continued northward. He had not slept properly since the night of Sirius death and he was exhausted. He considered what might happen if he fell asleep on the bike and decided not to. Instead he watched the blur of oncoming headlights, the orange glow of cities that passed on either side of them, rolling hills and mountains and the dark shadows of trees with stars over them. He tried hard to pay attention. Even so there seemed to be discontinuities in his memory and he was oppressed by a feeling of nameless dread. At some point the storm tailed off and the bike began to move faster. There was a city with a bridge over a river, the road passing high amongst tall buildings, suburbs and then another, much higher, bridge with a view of miles down river. Soon after this, the dual carriageway stopped and they were on empty country roads passing moving black expanses of water. Nothing felt quite real, except Jane, the warmth of her body and the sound and feel of the bike beneath him.

Eventually the sky began to grow lighter, colour draining into the land: grey mountains with greens and purples below, the white of mist on the black tarmac and finally, as the bike began to descend yet again, a twisting metallic grey to the horizon. _The sea,_ thought Harry, wondering vaguely if Jane intended to ride out over the water. Instead they turned northwards along the coast road. Harry could no longer keep his eyes open. He had opened his visor in an attempt to help himself stay awake but this caused his eyes to feel dry. It was with the utmost relief that he realised that they had turned off onto a rough dirt road. He resented bitterly the fact that it seemed to go on for at least half a mile.

The noise stopped and Harry tried to dismount. Finding himself gazing blearily up at blue sky and the undersides of flowers, he allowed his eyes to close.

Someone was carrying him. Harry glimpsed an overgrown garden and a stone terrace onto which a brightness of glass windowed doors stood open and then he was borne through into the cool, dim interior.

He was sitting, held upright by an arm around his shoulders, with his eyes screwed shut, while his head was tipped back and something horrible was poured into his mouth. Knowing better than to try to spit it out, he swallowed and was allowed to lie down. He relaxed completely.

'What happened?' A man's voice, somehow familiar.

'I got lost. I don't get lost! I ended up in bloody Surrey using my bike as a weapon to prevent one boy from killing another and after that we played tag with Dementors. I lost them on the motorway. One of them took a shortcut across the other carriageway and got hit by a truck. It splashed.' Jane's voice shook.

Harry tried to work out how he knew the man's voice. He was suddenly standing, backing away and scrabbling in his pocket for his glasses. _Snape! _When he could retreat no further he put on his glasses. Snape was wearing muggle clothes and, for a wonder, his hair was clean, but the expression of cold rage on his face was all too familiar. Harry turned to Jane who looked shocked and very pale. _This was Jane's father? Snape's daughter was a squib? No wonder the bastard hated kids! _ He swallowed and wondered if Snape would simply kill him outright; if he had not already been poisoned.

'I'm sorry,' said Jane. 'I just didn't know what else to do.' Snape glared at her with scarcely less fury. She reached into her jacket and pulled out the blue stone. 'There has to be a reason for this piece of junk hauling me across three counties just in time to save his hide.' She let the stone drop back. For the first time she actually looked scared and Harry wondered if she had ever seen this side of her father before. 'He needs to contact Professor Dumbledore. Will you help him?'

Snape continued to glare at her. Minutes might have passed while they stood so in silence, anger slowly ebbing from his face. Finally Snape turned away. 'I usually do,' he conceded grimly. Pulling something from his pocket, he walked out of the doors, down the steps from the terrace to the garden and disappeared.

Jane turned back to Harry. 'Why didn't you tell me?' he demanded.

'I wasn't sure how you'd react.' She folded herself down into a seated position on one of the two rather shabby sofas that faced each another on either side of the fireplace.

'So you decided not to tell me? To make that decision for me? Don't you think that's rather arrogant?'

Jane looked up at him. Her pupils were wide with exhaustion making her eyes look black and her skin was almost grey. 'That does tend to be the consensus,' she agreed calmly. 'Harry, do you remember coming through Glasgow, because I don't. I did the last few hundred miles on autopilot and I'm tired, and I'd care more if I was sure that he's ever going to forgive me for bringing you here.' Her head bowed over her knees and she wrapped her arms around them.

'I need the bathroom,' said Harry.

Not raising her head she pointed at a door. 'Top of the stairs,' she murmured.

Opening the door, Harry found a curving wooden staircase behind it. Steep triangular steps turned it back upon itself to open onto a wide landing that held an old table entirely covered by a computer and its peripherals together with a pair of mismatched dining room chairs and a worn velvet seat underneath a window. Three doors led off, one of them open.

The bathroom was clean but appeared to have been unaltered for at least fifty years. It held a massive iron bath with lion's feet and a towel draped over it. The rest of the plumbing matched the bath. Shelving held soap, bottles of brightly coloured liquids, candles, and a model boat. Lace curtains hung at an open window that looked out over the garden. He could smell lilac. All very different from the dungeons at Hogwarts.

Harry used the toilet and flushed it. He still felt filthy and sore and he would have liked to have filled and climbed into the big old bath with its worn enamel. Then the thought occurred to him that Snape used that bath and he shuddered. He contented himself with washing his face and was drying it with the obviously clean towel from over the bath, when the very nature of reality seemed to fail.

Runic writing writhed and twisted in the walls, suddenly become insubstantial. A scream from below and sudden sense of danger had Harry out of the bathroom and taking the stairs so fast he bounced off the walls. He fell through the door at the bottom of the stairs to find Professor Dumbledore standing with his wand drawn. Around him a number of books and a vase hung in midair. Snape was on the floor, apparently unconscious, with Jane crouched beside him, staring up at Dumbledore with fear giving way to fury in her face. 'You unutterable . . . Have you even heard of ethics?' She was so angry that this ended in a squeak. Tears poured down her face.

'Professor Dumbledore.' Harry found himself moving to face the headmaster, trying to interpose himself between Jane and the old wizard.

'Harry.' Dumbledore was clearly relieved to see him unharmed.

'What's happening Professor?'

There was another squeak from Jane as she tried, and failed, to speak. She knelt beside Snape and put her hand to face, her eyes flickering over him trying to determine what was wrong.

Dumbledore spoke. 'Professor Snape will be fine if you calm down,' he told Jane. 'It seems that the house is warded to hide the use of magic and is drawing the necessary energy from him.'

Jane glanced at Harry. Then she closed her eyes and began to breath deeply and slowly. As the flying objects thumped softly to the floor, the sense of danger faded and Snape began to revive.

'What happened Harry?' The Headmaster's voice was reassuring, but he was avoiding Harry's eyes.

'Dudley didn't like you threatening his mother, so he broke my wand and then he tried to kill me.' Harry found that he too was angry with Dumbledore. 'Jane used her motorbike to drive him off and then to get me away from some Dementors that just happened to show up. So much for my being safe at Privet Drive! I couldn't even contact anyone. Is Hermione safe?'

'At the Burrow.'

Harry was amazed at the sense of relief. 'Who was supposed to be looking after me?' he whispered. 'Are they OK?

'Merely stunned. They will be pleased to know that you are safe.'

'Death Eaters?'

'I regret that the origins of these events lie, again, within the Ministry of Magic. It was decided that you would be safer in their custody and so your cousin was "persuaded" to evict you. We do not know who sent the Dementors or, indeed, if they were sent. Dumbledore glanced at Harry. 'Then what happened?'

'Jane took me to London.' Harry tugged at his shirt. 'She had to buy me these clothes. When we arrived at the 'Leaky Cauldron' we saw a _Morsmordre_ and Aurors obliviating everyone. I decided, after last year, that I'd rather avoid the Ministry, so I went to Headquarters.'

'You took her to Headquarters?' The Headmaster's tone was grave.

'No, I didn't,' said Harry, bitterly. 'I didn't trust her. Not that it mattered. I couldn't get in.'

'The death of your godfather compromised the magic protecting the house and it has closed itself off completely.' Dumbledore told him regretfully.

'Jane had given me her mobile phone number, so I called her, and she brought me here.'

During Harry's explanation Snape had risen to his feet with Jane clinging to him like a small child. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

Snape pried Jane away from him. 'Which part of this mess, precisely, is your fault?' he enquired dryly. 'Jane has the "Star of Grace",' he said as if that explained everything.

'It was not destroyed?' asked Dumbledore.

'No. Regulus Black stole it on the Dark Lord's orders, but decided not to hand it over. Instead he hid it amongst my things. A decision that cost him his life.'

'Who killed him?' asked Harry.

'I did, although he was already dying. Bellatrix had been using '_Cruciatus' _to interrogate him.'

'But '_Cruciatus' _doesn't kill,' Harry objected.

'It does when used to break major bones. Subsequent spasms . . .' Snape stopped. 'Regulus was my friend. I gave him '_Veritaserum' _knowing that, in his injured condition, it would kill him.' He turned to Dumbledore. 'And now, as you have wrongly and publicly challenged my oath to you, I am no longer bound.' His wand was in his hand.

Harry decided that he didn't like the look on Snape's face. Surely he wasn't thinking of challenging Dumbledore?'

The Headmaster had put his own wand away and he did not reach for it. 'Will you tell me why I was wrong?'

'I swore to obey you, to protect the students of Hogwarts and to serve the school to the utmost of my abilities, but what you asked was beyond me.' Snape smiled coldly. 'Miranda would never have countenanced the obliviation of her daughter, and the promise that I made to her had precedence. Her house - her rules.'

'There was a 'Contract'?' asked Dumbledore, astonished.

'Yes.'

'Why did you not tell me?'

'Because one of James Potter's little crew belonged to the Dark Lord.'

'You knew this?'

'What other explanation was there? I tried to tell you.'

The Headmaster appeared older than Harry had ever seen him. 'I am so very sorry,' he whispered. He was swaying on his feet. Although still angry, Snape pushed his wand into his sleeve, took Dumbledore's arm and led him to one of the sofas where the old man sat down.

'Jane, will you make some tea?' asked Snape and Jane stumbled away into the kitchen.

'Miranda was a muggle?' Dumbledore seemed to be trying to understand.

Snape sat down opposite him and leaned forward. 'Not really,' he said 'but then Salazar Slytherin didn't entirely lose his argument, did he?' None of this was making any sense to Harry. 'As a matter of interest, just how many so called 'Muggles' are capable of magic?'

'I really couldn't say.'

Closing his eyes, Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 'So it really would not be a good idea to indulge in too much 'Muggle Baiting' would it?'

'Not really.'

Harry still didn't understand and said as much.

'Letters are sent only to those who have actually used magic,' said Dumbledore quietly, 'which means that, from the general population, only muggleborn witches and wizards of truly exceptional ability, those who are a danger to the secrecy of our world, and to themselves, are invited. Most of our students come from magical families only because those who grow up with magic are far more likely to use it.'

'But . . .that's totally unfair,' said Harry, angrily considering the implications of what he had been told.

'It avoids war,' said Snape flatly. After which there was a loaded silence, broken only after Jane came back with the tea things. She sat down and started to pour the tea into cups.

'Why would Miranda want to hide the fact Jane is a witch?' asked Dumbledore, putting in milk and sugar and handing a cup to Harry.

'I went to Hogwarts to and failed to return. Even if she had known that the Dark Lord was gone, believing me dead, she would not have sent you her only child.'

A deep calm seemed to have descended upon Dumbledore. 'Harry cannot return to Privet Drive,' he said.

'No' Snape growled.

An instant later Harry realised what Dumbledore had asked. 'NO! I CAN STAY AT THE BURROW. THE WEASLEYS WOULD WANT ME TO STAY.'

For a brief moment Dumbledore gazed at him over the top of his glasses. 'Your presence would endanger them.'

'WHY CAN'T I . . .' Harry struggled to control himself. 'Can't I stay at Hogwarts?'

'When the Ministry found out, and they would, they would assume guardianship of you. You might not be able to return to Hogwarts at all.'

'Grimmauld Place?'

'It could be months before things are resolved there. Drink your tea.' As Harry swallowed reflexively, the cup flew from his hands to smash against the wall, leaving a trail of tea across the floor.

'You . . .' Snape was standing, wand in hand, pale and shaking with rage. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Harry wondered if he would squeak if he spoke.

Dumbledore however appeared beatific. He took a fob watch from a pocket in his robes and opened it. 'Minerva, my dear, can you tell me where Harry is now?'

'No, that can't be right.' Professor McGonagall's voice sounded flustered.

'Just tell me, what does it say?'

'At home,' she replied, 'but that makes no sense at all.'

'I will explain when I return,' said Dumbledore blithely, returning the watch to his robes. He turned to Snape. 'Law follows magic, Severus. I think that you will find that all the required elements are present.'

'No!'

Not a squeak, but still Harry hoped that he could leave soon. Then what Professor McGonagall had said struck him. _At Home?_

'Explain.' Jane was still sitting on the sofa, holding her tea in both hands. She looked tired but determined.

'You took Harry into your home.'

'And?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'When Dudley Dursley spilt Harry's blood and threw him out, you protected him. You saved his life, clothed and probably fed him. Your father, at your request, brought Harry into this house. These things were by themselves sufficient.' He glanced apologetically at Snape. 'However, under such circumstances, anything given to eat or drink serves to formalise and reinforce the bond. You gave him tea and he drank it.'

'But wouldn't there have to have been intent?' Jane was prepared to argue.

Again Dumbledore smiled. 'Why did you help Harry?' he enquired gently.

'I didn't want him hurt.'

'And why did you bring him here?'

'I thought he'd be safe here, that Severus would help him.'

'This is very old magic and very poorly understood, however that would appear to have been intent enough and the tea confirmed it.'

'But Harry didn't understand.'

'As a child, it was not necessary that he should.'

'Right. I'm sixteen. Have I the power to - whatever?'

'You are your mother's heir and you had your guardian's agreement,' said Dumbledore smoothly. 'Severus, we should talk.' He rose and placed a hand on Snape's arm. Snape snarled at it and pulled away. 'You should have help. Lupin perhaps?'

'Not the werewolf,' hissed Snape through his teeth.

'Then Tonks.'

'No.'

'As a known member of the Order of the Phoenix, her loyalty to the Ministry has been called into question. She has been advised to take sick leave. However, if there is someone that you would prefer . . .?

Snape scowled.

'Who's Tonks?' asked Jane.

'Nymphadora Tonks is a muggleborn Auror,' replied Dumbledore. 'She is also a Metamorphmagus and a friend of your father.'

'Hardly that,' Snape said coldly. Jane looked up at him, intrigued.

Harry decided that this had gone far enough. 'No,' he said, 'you forced the Dursleys to take me and look how that turned out. Not again.'

'Miss Norton,' said Dumbledore, 'Harry is in very real danger. At present our best chance is to hide him. Here, if you would be willing to give him shelter.'

Jane gave him a very cold look. 'You must ask my father,' she said.

'But you, yourself, would not be unwilling?'

She did not reply. Dumbledore turned to Snape. 'Severus, you know what is at stake. Will you take him in?' he asked gently.

Snape looked drained. 'Under the circumstances, I am not sufficiently foolish to refuse.' His fingers clenched on his wand as he considered Harry. 'No one else, apart from Minerva, is to know anything about this without my _express_ permission. And Potter _will _agree to obey me,' he finished icily.

The Headmaster nodded sagely. 'As you agree to protect him. Tonks can bring Harry's things from the Dursleys.'

'What will happen to the Dursleys?' asked Harry tearing his eyes away from Snape.

'What do you think should happen?'

'You should never have threatened them.'

'Then you do not want to see them punished?'

Harry was feeling decidedly ill. He had just realised that it was likely that he'd be spending quite some time with Professor Snape, another unwilling host. 'No,' he said finally.

'Good,' said Dumbledore and, smiling fondly at Harry, he left.

Harry turned to Snape. 'Why did you agree?'

Snape looked up with an expression of absolute disgust, and then turned to follow Dumbledore out.

Jane was still sitting on the sofa with her tea in her hands. 'Ok Harry, you can have my room and I'll share with Tonks.'

'You don't have to.'

'Would you rather share with my father?'

'No!'

'Harry,' said Jane, 'do you want some more tea.' Actually Harry did. 'There's plenty in the pot. Cups are in the cupboard over the sink.' Harry fetched himself a cup, sat down opposite Jane and poured the tea. She sipped her own tea and watched until he had drunk about half of his. Then she put her cup down and leant forward. 'Harry, I'm happy you're here. Because if you are here, so is he. Instead of out doing whatever he does for Dumbledore.' She dragged her hand back through her hair, pulling it away from her pallid face. 'Look. I'm not interested in running a hotel so, please, make yourself at home. If you need anything you can't find, or if you need help with anything, ask. And clear up after yourself.' She rubbed her eyes. 'I'm sorry; I don't mean to be rude. I'm just . . .'

Staggering slightly, Jane stood up and went into the kitchen. She came back with two piles of towels and bedding and handed one to Harry. 'The room next to the bathroom. I'm in the guest room.' She pointed. 'My father's in the room opposite yours.' Wearily, she essayed a smile. 'If you stay out of his way, he'll probably stay out of yours. Probably. Good night Harry.'

'Right.' said Harry, dully.

She paused beside the door to the guestroom. 'Make yourself at home Harry.'

Left on his own and feeling somewhat exposed, Harry finished his tea. '_Make yourself at home,'_ he thought, looking at his cup. He rinsed all the cups, and cleaned up the mess made by the broken one. There was still no sign of Snape, so he made himself a sandwich, which he sat at the kitchen table and ate. He tried not to think about what he had heard. _'One of James Potter's little crew belonged to the Dark Lord . . . I tried to tell you.' _ Then he collected the bedding and towel and went upstairs. The door next to the bathroom opened on a small, pleasant room containing old-fashioned furniture. He made up the bed and undressed. A glance at the mirror on the front of the wardrobe confirmed that he was filthy, so he took a shower. Greatly daring, he crept back down the stairs and put the bloody clothes in the washer-dryer that he had seen in the kitchen. Then he went to bed and fell asleep immediately.


	3. At home with Professor Snape

Harry awoke in an unfamiliar room with pale curtains moving in the breeze from the window. Watching them, it took him a moment to recollect where he was. Utter mortification accompanied the memory that he was in Snape's home; swiftly followed by fury that Dumbledore had abandoned him here like some valuable but awkward piece of luggage. Worse, he had tricked Snape into accepting him.

Opening the curtains, he gazed out at the garden. Early morning, he decided, from the shadows. He picked up the towel that Jane had given him and wrapped it around himself. Time to get dressed. Again he crept down the stairs, ready to retreat at the first sign of Snape. While he could not stay in his room forever, he had no intention of facing the greasy git any time soon, especially in no more than a towel. He reached the washer-dryer without incident, and began to unload his clothes, but that was as far as he got.

'Mr. Potter, a word if you please.' Harry felt his blood congeal. Clutching his clean laundry, he stood up slowly.

'Right sir, I'll just get dressed.' Snape said nothing. Carefully not looking his way, Harry fled back up the stairs.

Heart pounding, he took his time to get dressed in the clothes that he had so recently acquired. He decided against the industrial boots. Petunia Dursley would have had a fit had he worn such things in her house. Slowly, unwillingly he descended the stairs.

'Sit down Potter.' Harry sat on the edge of one of the opposed sofas. Professor Snape on the other, his usual expression of frigid distaste firmly in place.

'Mr. Potter,' Snape mused, 'what do you think would happen if the Dark Lord ever found out about Jane?'

'He'd kill you?' ventured Harry, to his own horror, sounding quite pleased with the idea, 'sir.'

'Oh?'

_Wrong answer,_ thought Harry, desperately avoiding looking at Snape. He was very much aware that, while Snape had a wand, he didn't.

'This is not a matter of some house-elf spilling the tea, or even simple defiance.' Fury spat from every word and Harry thought about the Longbottoms, alive, but insane in Saint Mungos. 'A traitor who has actively and successfully worked against him for years, someone who has made a _fool_ of him, Potter.' Harry risked a glance into Snape's black eyes and their intensity scared him. 'Have you any idea of what muggles are capable of doing to one another?'

There had been that video that Dudley had, without Petunia's knowledge. While Harry loathed Snape, Snape who had been one of _them, _his stomach twisted.

'Do you imagine that wizards are any nicer, Potter?

'N'no sir.'

'What they do possess is a far greater range of available unpleasantness along with the ability to keep their victim alive and conscious throughout.' Harry stared at the floor. He could hear Snape breathing 'And, Mr. Potter, while you may well believe that I've got it coming,' at this Harry froze, 'they would not do it to me.'

_Jane. _

_Not Jane. _

Realisation hit him hard. He couldn't breath, and he couldn't straighten up. He remembered Molly Weasley's boggart taking on the shapes of members of her family, dead. The worst way to hurt Snape was to hurt Jane: Jane who, like Sirius, had been prepared to risk her own life for his. Determination and sheer fury surged through him. _That isn't going to happen_ he decided. No one else was going to get hurt because they tried to help him. He twisted his head around to look at Snape, who was now watching him with the detached air of someone who had fed something of doubtful toxicity to a laboratory rat and was observing the results.

'You begin to understand.'

Again Harry stared at the ground and concentrated on breathing. Finally he got control, 'Occlumancy, sir.'

'Yes, Potter?'

'The lessons were making it worse, not better.'

'Did you practice?' The Potions Master stood up sharply. 'If not then that would, indeed, have been the result.'

'You told me to clear my mind. I don't know how.'

Snape was now standing at his elbow. 'If Miss Granger needed information, what would she do?' He sounded as though every word cost an effort.

'Find a book, sir?'

'Quite. Try Miranda's library. If you can find nothing suitable, tell me.' Snape strode to throw open a door. Through it Harry could see shelves laden with books and files. Obediently, Harry entered and began to hunt through the shelves.

Harry actually found two books dealing with Yoga and Meditation along with a rather thick book labelled 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance' which, after inspection, he returned to its shelf. With the books in his arms he went into the living room where he found Jane.

'Hello Harry.' The greeting was friendly. 'You look an awful lot better.' So did Jane, now dressed in a light summer dress and looking much healthier, warm brown eyes and a twisted little smile replacing the exhaustion of earlier in the day. 'I'm sorry I wasn't completely honest with you, and I do mean it about your being welcome here.'

Harry found himself smiling back and Jane grinned. 'What are the books for?' she asked.

'I need to learn to meditate.' He saw no need to elaborate.

'Are you hungry?'

Harry was hungry, but cautious. 'Where's Professor Snape?'

'In his room. Muttering imprecations. I think he's marking exam papers. What sort of fruitcake would make him a teacher?'

'That would be Professor Dumbledore. What happened last night? Harry asked. Then, seeing Jane's reaction, he rather wished that he hadn't.

She stared at her own hands, her fingers knotting. 'He was going to obliviate me.'

'Snape?'

'No! How could you think that?'

'I'm sorry. Why?'

'Dumbledore . . . he said I'd be better off.' Swearing under her breath she turned away. 'I'm making sandwiches. Do you want to help? You don't have to.' She disappeared through the kitchen door.

Harry put the books away in his room and then went to the kitchen to find her cutting mushrooms rather clumsily. 'Shall I do that?' He was afraid that she would slip with the knife.

'Ok.' Jane started viciously buttering bread. Harry washed his hands and then picked up the knife. 'So what upset the Dursleys?' Harry recognised this for a distraction, but decided to go along.

'They don't like magic.'

'What did you do?'

'It was more what I am. A wizard. A freak.'

She had stopped tormenting the bread. 'What was Dumbledore suggesting that they should be punished for?'

'Using me as a house-elf, dressing me in Dudley's cast off clothing, starving me, encouraging Dudley and his gang to bully me, keeping me in the under stair cupboard until I was eleven -'

'Pardon?'

'Until my Hogwarts letter arrived, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs. After that I got Dudley's second bedroom.' Harry continued cutting up the mushrooms, watching for her reaction in his peripheral vision.

'And no-one did anything?' He could hear her disbelief and anger. 'Why . . . what the hell were you doing living with them?'

'Dumbledore left me with them as a baby, after my parents were killed by Voldemort. My mother died to protect me and Petunia is her sister. Blood Magic was supposed to protect me.

'Dumbledore left you with them?' She hissed in disgust. 'And he's the good guy?'

'Trust me, you don't want to met the other one,' said Harry.

'Ok, if he comes around, I'll hide behind the sofa.' Slamming doors, Jane found a frying pan in one of the cupboards and started hunting through the fridge. 'Do you want to make some tea?'

As he made tea, Harry wondered just how much Snape had told her. 'How much do you know about Voldemort?' he asked.

Jane froze for a long moment and then moved the pan off the heat. 'I know about my father,' she said 'if that's what you mean.'

'Right.'

She was still, with her back to him. 'The Moldywart's Minion thing.'

'That's . . .'_ different from the Dark Lord, _thought Harry.

'He just didn't know any better.' She turned around slowly, not looking at him. 'Sometimes decent people get fed lies, believe the wrong things.' Harry didn't reply. 'I'm told that wizarding society is pretty unsophisticated, even primitive. Imprisonment without trial. Shit like that.'

'Yes,' said Harry, thinking about Sirius.

'Strange, especially when they've got so many effective ways of determining the truth.'

It did seem rather strange when Harry came to think about it_. Surely Sirius must have said something. Did no one ever listen?_ Carefully, Harry laid the knife down on the table.

'Harry?' He stared at the ground.

'Harry?'

_Please don't sympathise, _thought Harry, realising with dismay that while he could fight antagonism, he could not cope with kindness and most definitely not from this girl, _Snivellus_' child. He heard her step forward and then he was throwing open the kitchen door and running down, through the neglected garden, towards where a section of broken wall revealed the beach and sea beyond.

He scrambled over the wall and threw himself down in its shelter. Pushing his hand into the warm sharp sand, he pulled his knees into his chest, closed his eyes and tried to stop the silent shaking that had overwhelmed him. _Sirius . . . It **hurts**_. His hands clenched. It hurt beyond belief. Burying his face between his elbows, he curled up on the sand amongst the rocks and wildflowers.

'Harry?'

Wincing, Harry opened his eyes to brightness and disorientation. He discovered he'd a headache and was uncomfortably thirsty. Somehow he had fallen asleep on the beach. Straightening his glasses and blinking against the light, he looked up.

'Tonks?'

The look of concern on her face became a tight smile. 'Wotcher.' Late thirties, smart clothes, with a smooth bob of black hair, today Tonks might have worked in the city. Harry wasn't sure it didn't suit her 'What do you think?' she said, tugging at the hair.

_On the other hand . . . _thought Harry, 'I liked the pink.'

Tonks obliged and then helped him to his feet. 'Come on, I've got a car full of your stuff.'

He followed her back over the wall and waded through the knee-high grass and flowers of the lawn to the terrace. Beyond an open wooden gate set into the wall to one side of the house a dark blue estate car had its back open. Jane and Hedwig confronted one another through the bars of the owl's cage.

'Hi, Harry. Can we let him out?'

'Her. But, yes, do that.'

Carefully Jane unlatched the cage. Hedwig hobbled out and then took off in a brief storm of feathers. 'What's her name?'

'Hedwig.'

'She's beautiful.' Shading her eyes Jane watched her fly. ' I'll give you a hand to get this stuff indoors, if you want,' she turned to Harry, 'or perhaps you'd like that cup of tea now. Maybe something cold?

'Something cold. For me anyway. I don't know about Tonks.

Jane blinked at Tonks' pink hair.

Tonks screwed up her eyes for a moment and her hair turned a vivid green.

'Is that what's meant by Metamorph . . . whatever?' asked Jane.

'Metamorphmagus. Yes.' Tonks grinned.

'Ok, so what's an Auror?'

'Not unlike the Spanish Inquisition,' declared Snape emerging from the garden accompanied by Professor McGonagall. 'Except, of course, that no-one expects the Spanish Inquisition.'

'Our chief weapon is surprise,' agreed Tonks evenly.

'Fear and surprise?' enquired Jane.

'Fear, surprise and an almost fanatical devotion to the Minister,' Snape concluded.

'Snape, that is sick! You do know that?' said Tonks, revolted.

'And you missed out ruthless efficiency,' said Jane.

Snape looked extremely dubious. McGonagall just seemed bemused. 'Severus,' she murmured, 'would there such a thing as a cup of tea?'

'Just as long as you're not proposing moving in Minerva.'

Harry had heard several unfamiliar but entirely unforgettable expressions as Tonks helped him to carry his trunk up the narrow turning stairs. Grinning, he returned downstairs to find Snape pouring iridescent ink onto clean parchment that had been laid out over a small table in the middle of the floor. As he watched plans of the house and garden were drawn out. These completed, runes appeared. Finally Snape handed the parchment to McGonagall.

She pursed her lips. 'This doesn't look like your work Severus.'

'Miranda's.' Snape's voice was soft. McGonagall looked at him questioningly. 'She had a couple of books.' The silence lengthened. 'That information was quite sufficient. Given two or three apparently unrelated facts, Miranda could construct an entire theory and would usually be correct. She would have been invaluable to us.'

'What was she like?' asked Tonks.

'Ferociously bright, decent, funny . . .' Suddenly Snape appeared to snap to. 'You asked for tea, Minerva?' He strode out into the kitchen.

'Well,' said McGonagall. She rolled up the parchment. 'I have something for you,' she told Jane. As she snapped her fingers, a Gladstone bag appeared on the table. The parchment went into the bag and a wand came out. McGonagall offered it to Jane. 'This was made by my great grandfather, whilst he was at sea. He had been drinking in a dockside pub and woke up with a hangover, without his wand and eighteen miles off land. He was obliged to construct one with what came to hand: mermaid hair and borogrove.'

Jane took the wand and began to examine it closely.

'Borogrove?' said Harry, 'I thought that was just a poem.'

'A poem by a mathematician: Charles Lutwidge Dodgeson or Lewis Carrol. I'm doing Maths at university. 'Jane looked up, clearly delighted.' Thank you.'

'Well, if you decide to replace it, you can return it then.'

'What sort of wood is this?' asked Jane stroking the dull green with its oddly metallic graining.

'Borogrove.'

'Oh. Sorry. According to Humpty Dumpty, a borogrove was some sort of scruffy-looking bird,' said Jane. She smiled at McGonagall. 'But I always thought that borogroves were actually something like mangroves.'

'Just so. McGonagall actually smiled back as she accepted a cup of tea from Snape and sat down. They grow on floating islands in the South Sea. Muggles were forever stumbling across them until they were all made unplottable.' Jane gave Snape an exasperated look and then went into the kitchen.

'Dudley broke my wand,' said Harry.

'It's being repaired.' McGonagall sipped her tea. 'Mr. Ollivander is not a man to be hurried, especially not with _that_ wand.

'So when will I get it back?'

'That will be for Professor Snape to decide.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'How long will I be staying here?'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, we don't know.'

Jane came back with three glasses. 'Orange juice and tonic water,' she explained handing iced drinks to Tonks and Harry. When Harry tipped the drained glass back she smirked at him. 'Would you like some more?'

'I can get it,' said Harry. 'Half and half, right?'

Tonks handed Harry her own glass with only ice remaining. 'Yes please.'

'Potter's choice of so ostentatious a familiar is unfortunate.' Snape's lip curled. 'I regret that you will have to take the creature back with you.'

McGonagall sipped her tea and said nothing.

_His house,_ thought Harry sickly, as he fetched a drink for Tonks. His own glass, he had rinsed and left on the draining board. Then he went out into the garden and waited for Hedwig. She came to him at once, hooting excitedly. With a heavy heart, Harry carried her into the house. Abruptly fur and claws struggled for purchase on his shoulder and then an enormous cat thumped to the ground and stood, white and black fur raised, back arched and hissing.

'She'll get used to it,' said McGonagall, tucking her wand into her sleeve. 'I did.'

'If you will recall, Minerva,' said Snape, steadying himself against a sofa back, 'it takes a great deal more energy to hide the use of magic than to actually use it. I must ask you to exercise some discretion.'

'Sorry Severus.' McGonagall did not sound in the least contrite. She stood up and put down her cup, snapped her fingers and the bag disappeared. 'Thank you for the tea.' She walked away.

Harry dropped to his knees in front of Hedwig who opened her mouth and gave a silent meow. 'Sorry girl. We'll have you back as soon as possible.' Hedwig butted her head into his stomach and he stroked her soft fur. After a while she began to purr.

_'Wingardium Leviosa!' _

Nothing happened.

Jane was sitting on the terrace steps attempting to levitate a seagull's feather that she had found on the beach. 'Are you sure I'm doing this right?'

Harry took the wand. 'Swish and flick. Like this.' He demonstrated the movement and handed back the wand.

_'Wingardium Leviosa!_ Bugger!'

'That's not the incantation.'

'Isn't it?'

Snape and Tonks were in the kitchen cooking dinner. In practice this meant that Snape was cooking and Tonks was sitting well out of the way with a glass of wine.

_'Wingardium Leviosa!' _

Harry put his hand onto Jane's wrist and guided her though the movements. 'Again.'

_'Wingardium Leviosa!'_

Harry held onto her wrist and guided her again. _'Wingardium Leviosa!'_ The feather twitched. 'Breeze?' suggested Jane cautiously.

'I don't think so,' said Harry, letting go. 'Try again'.

_'Wingardium Leviosa!'_ This time there could be no doubt. Jane gazed at the feather with an expression of awe. Then she snatched it up and ran into the house.

Harry stood up and stretched, a gesture echoed by Hedwig, who had been curled up on a cushion in the doorway, sunning herself. She had adapted surprisingly quickly to being a cat. He bent to scratch behind her ears and a resounding, rumbling purr was his reward. Harry ambled through to the kitchen to find Jane hugging Snape and chanting ' . . . I did it, I did it, I did it . . .'

'Quite,' said Snape, 'by all means open something.'

Jane threw open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. 'Cava,' she said, happily undoing the wire cage and easing out the cork. Four glasses were filled and Jane proposed _'Wingardium Leviosa!' _

Harry emptied the glass and then noticed that the others had only drank only a little of theirs. Jane refilled his glass, and he took another sip. Not butterbeer, but nice.

_'Wingardium Leviosa!'_ The feather floated and Snape plucked it from the air.

'Enough,' he said lazily. 'Not in the kitchen.'

'What next?' Jane asked Harry.

_'Incendio,'_ replied Harry, remembering a certain Quidditch match from his first year at Hogwarts.

_'Incendio.'_

Jane was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with Harry's first year 'Charms' textbook open beside her, attempting to light a fire in the fireplace. 'Sod it,' she said finally, finishing her wine. She rose fluidly, and fetched a bottle of Cava from the kitchen. She filled her own glass and turned to Harry. 'Be careful not to get too dehydrated,' she warned. 'Shall I get you a soft drink?'

'I'm fine,' said Harry, holding out his glass. Jane filled it.

Harry did feel fine. He had a bit of a headache, but it wasn't bothering him, and he felt more relaxed than he had in a very long time. He found himself telling Jane about Ron and Hermione and the troll that wasn't in the dungeons. When he told her about Fluffy she laughed out loud.

'You know I don't believe you?'

'Ask your father.'

'Fluffy?'

'Hagrid has some rather odd ideas about magical beasts. You have to be very wary of anything that he thinks is interesting. Hey, have you seen the book he set for us one year?' Harry got up. Most of his schoolbooks had been dumped in the library. Not this one. Harry went to fetch it from his trunk. While he was upstairs he drank a glass of water in the bathroom, then he went to his room and found the 'Monster Book of Monsters'. Stroking the book's spine he rendered it quiescent, untied it, and carried it downstairs. Then he closed it and put it down on the table. When Jane reached for it, it snapped at her, fell onto the floor and then attempted to bite her ankle. Jane hastily pulled her feet up onto the sofa and stared at the book wide-eyed as it scuttled underneath on its covers. Hedwig awoke and watched for a few moments before stalking over. Harry sat down to watch the interaction between owl-cat and mad book.

_'Accio book!'_ Snape quieted the book and handed it to Harry. 'Put it away,' he said coldly. He turned to Jane. 'Dinner.'

Harry put the book away in his trunk and returned downstairs. In the kitchen a fourth place had been set at the table so he sat down and rather nervously finished his wine. Before he could protest, Tonks refilled his glass. As the others helped themselves to some sort of curry he realised that he was becoming rather drunk. He served himself carefully and concentrated on eating.

'Harry was telling me about a giant three headed dog. He's having me on, right?'

'Fluffy,' said Snape. 'Now resident in the forbidden forest, except on very cold nights, and whenever it's feeling lonely, which is apparently quite often, when it sleeps in Hagrid's hut.'

The curry was hot so Harry took a gulp of wine. There was a jug of iced water on the table and he would fill his glass as soon as it was empty. He was beginning to feel distinctly strange.

Harry knelt on the bathroom floor. His naked forearms rested along the toilet seat. He didn't actually remember going to bed the previous night, and he felt absolutely dreadful. Some time ago he had stopped being afraid that he might die. Right now he was afraid that he might not.

'Get up Potter.'

Had he really thought that it couldn't get any worse? Shivering, he sat back on his heels. He did not dare let go of the toilet in case he fell down the precipice that was threatening to swallow him up. He started to shake his head and stopped immediately.

'Drunk,' he mumbled, eyes tightly shut.

'That I can see,' said Snape. The unutterable bastard sounded amused. 'You would be well advised to exercise greater discretion, not to say caution. What would your fan club think? The "Boy who Lived" . . .'

'With his head down the toilet. Yes, I know. Only, I don't want to be him. I'm sick of it.' It had been an unfortunate choice of words. As his stomach began to tighten he just wished that Snape would go away.

Harry retched emptily.

As the thunder in his ears subsided, he could hear the tap running, and then Snape was bending over him. 'Drink this.' A glass was held to his mouth. _Poison. Oh good, _thought Harry. The liquid smelt of lemon and elderflower and with immense difficulty he managed to swallow some. The relief was almost instantaneous. He took another mouthful and then he took the glass from Snape's hand.

As he knelt in the darkness sipping, Harry realised that while he had never felt anything towards Snape for saving his life, for this he was grateful. 'Thank you,' he whispered sincerely.

'If there were another bathroom I'd have left you to it,' Snape growled. 'How much did you drink?'

'I don't know. Too much. Sorry.'

'Clean up.'

Snape left. Harry found a cloth and disinfectant. When he had finished he turned to the old bath. The worn enamel felt smooth and dry, almost powdery. He put in the plug, turned on the taps and locked the door. He had discovered that he was wearing his towel over his jeans.

When the bath was full he undressed, climbed in and lay down. Floating easily in deep warm water he watched as the sky grew brighter beyond the window.


	4. Angst and an Argument

Curtains moved in the breeze from the open window. Harry got out of bed and promptly tripped over an empty bucket that had been left beside the bed.

_Damn,_ thought Harry, picking himself up from the floor, _why do people drink?_

He certainly didn't intend to.

Not again.

At least he hadn't been sick in the bedroom, just the bathroom.

And then Snape had found him.

And had been amused.

_Git, _thought Harry as he put on his old hand-me-down jeans and a stained and worn oversize t-shirt. Barefoot, he wandered downstairs to face the music.

'Hi, Harry, are you alright?' Jane looked sympathetic.

'Sorry.'

'For what? I hated that dinner service and Miranda loathed it. Now I've every excuse to buy a new one.'

Harry had a vague impression of cascading crockery.

Snape has told him to wash up and he'd tried. 'Oh, no.' Harry put his hand to his face.

'It's ok, although Tonks did say that she felt that you were usurping her prerogative.' Harry looked at Jane through his fingers. 'Breaking things,' she explained reasonably.

Tonks had helped him up the stairs last night.

He tried to sit down and was seized by the arm and dragged into the kitchen. 'You need to eat something,' said Jane, obviously prepared to brook no argument. 'Although, actually, you don't look that bad.'

'I'm fine. Snape gave me something for the hangover.'

'Acting like a reasonable human being, again. He's going to have to watch that,' said Tonks who was sitting at the table, with Harry's first year Dark Arts textbook open on the table in front of her, drinking tea.

Jane flicked at her with a folded tea towel. 'You're just jealous because you didn't get any.'

'I wasn't drunk.'

'So what _is_ your excuse then?'

Tonks smirked and took another sip of her tea. 'I'll have another of those bacon and mushroom butties,' she said hopefully.

'Can I help?' asked Harry.

'Yes. Stay out of the way. You can help me cook the dinner tonight. And then we'll see how Tonks gets on with the washing up.'

Harry sat down.

'Perhaps we should buy some more plates first,' suggested Tonks, but Harry didn't laugh. He was remembering what had happened after he had spilt the pile of dishes.

Snape had stood up preparing, no doubt, for some blistering attack that had never been realised. The sight of the "boy who lived" in tears was, apparently, enough to silence even him.

Tonks had put her arm around his shoulders and led him out of the kitchen. 'I miss him too,' she had said quietly. 'He saved my life. If he hadn't been there, we'd probably have lost the battle before Professor Dumbledore arrived. Instead we won.' Her voice had sounded strange. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe her own tears away with her hands and then she had put her arms around him. Unable even to begin to find words to express the turmoil within him, Harry had said nothing, but hugged her back. Eventually she had pushed him away. 'Come on you. Bed.' Then she had seen him to his room and told him goodnight.

'Was it you who left the bucket?' Harry asked Tonks shamefacedly.

'Better safe than sorry,' she replied. 'I've been worse.'

Harry doubted it, but he felt unwilling to talk about Sirius and unable to talk about anything else, and so he sat in silence. When Jane put his breakfast in front of him, he was rather surprised to find that he actually wanted it. He managed a lopsided smile. 'Thank you,' he said.

Jane sat down beside him and continued an involved discussion of Arithmancy with Tonks. Face bright with interest, Jane was asking questions while Tonks spoke between bites of her sandwich but, even without a mouthful of food, whatever she was saying was incomprehensible. When Tonks had finished eating, she and Jane rose and took their dishes to the sink. 'It's ok,' said Harry, 'I'll get them when I wash mine.'

'Ta, Harry.' said Tonks and she and Jane went into the garden.

Harry had finished washing the breakfast dishes and was cleaning the sink when Jane came back in with one end of an extension wire. "What's that for?" he asked.

"Cutting the grass." She plugged in the wire and disappeared back into the garden. Harry fetched his socks and boots, put them on and then followed. As Jane plugged in a strimmer, Harry picked up the machine itself. Jane grinned and got out of the way.

It took over an hour and, by the time that they had finished cutting and clearing the grass, Harry was sweating. He took off his shirt and enjoyed the feeling of sun and wind on his bare shoulders. Turning towards the house he was startled to see Snape by the glass doors, watching. For a few moments Harry and Snape stared at one another, Snape's expression entirely unreadable but, as the professor turned to go back into the house, Harry realised that Snape's wand was in his hand.

Back in his room, Harry began to read the first of his books on meditative techniques. While, rather to his surprise, he was not particularly angry about the Legilimency to which he was sure that he that had been subjected, he was coldly determined to prevent further incursions.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A furry triangular battering ram hit Harry squarely between the eyes. 'Meugh! Mreeowll!' The battering ram was reapplied forcefully and twisted.

Harry sat back fast and straightened his glasses. He had not been aware that cats could be quite so expressive. Or imperative. Hedwig wanted her lunch. Now or, preferably, ten minutes ago.

'Ok girl, let's go and see what we can find.' Harry got up and followed Hedwig down to the kitchen where he found Tonks making sandwiches. 'Hedwig's hungry,' he told her.

'I think I saw a tin of sardines somewhere. In there I think' Tonks indicated a large built in larder.

'Try the top shelf.' Jane had come into the kitchen from the garden. 'I've put a blanket down, we can have lunch outside.'

Tonks drew her wand 'Acc . . .sorry.'

Jane pulled a chair over and stood on it. She found the sardines and tossed them to Harry. 'Perhaps we can do some more shopping tomorrow,' she suggested, dropping neatly back down to the floor, 'and she can have some chicken for supper. Will she eat raw mince, d'you think?'

'She usually hunts for herself,' Harry explained. 'I think she'd be all right with mince though. Why didn't you use a spell?' Harry turned to Tonks.

'Well, we're hiding as muggles,' she replied. The wards hide the use of magic but they're drawing energy from Snape and it's tending to make him irritable.'

Briefly, Harry considered Snape not being irritable. It seemed unlikely.

'And magic eventually disrupts muggle technology. And it's likely to be some time before I'm sufficiently competent to manage without it,' said Jane, 'even if I wanted to. Hey you!' Hedwig had sprung up onto the table and seized the cheese. She bounced down from the table and disappeared, like a furry rocket, through the back door. 'Do cats like cheese?' mused Jane.

'Do owls like cheese?' asked Tonks, amused.

'She likes bacon, but she doesn't usually just take stuff.' Harry was embarrassed.

'Well she's not usually a cat and she's probably hungry. She might not have caught anything last night.' Jane took the sardines from Harry, opened the can and forked the contents into a dish, which she put down on the floor along with another full of water.

'I should have thought of that.' Guilt assailed Harry. How could he have been so stupid as to forget about Hedwig?

'Relax. She's a cat. If she's unhappy, or if she wants something, you'll know all about it.' Jane threw the empty tin in the bin.

'Yes, but I should have thought . . .'

'No harm done.' Tonks put her arm around his shoulders. Which, of course, made it worse.

If he had only thought. If he had thought to tell Snape what he had seen, Sirius would still be alive. He pulled away from Tonks and utter misery possessed him. 'Sorry,' he mumbled, turning to leave.

'No.' Tonks pulled out a chair. 'Sit down Harry.' Harry sat. Tonks the Auror was someone to be obeyed.

She sat down opposite him and considered him for a few moments. 'Harry, you are not responsible for Sirius' death. You did not kill him. Bellatrix did. Sirius loved you. He could not have been prouder of you. Especially when Professor Snape told us that he believed that you had gone to the Chamber of Mysteries to rescue him.'

Resting her chin upon her hands, Tonks allowed the aura of command to drop from her. 'We . . . we just didn't believe that you'd gone to the Department of Mysteries. Couldn't see how you'd get there. But Sirius was all for going after you on his own, if we wouldn't. So we agreed. Snape tried to persuade him to stay to warn Dumbledore,' she looked into his eyes, 'but Harry, nothing on this Earth could have stopped him coming after you. He just pointed out, quietly, that we were likely to be outnumbered and asked Snape to search the Forbidden Forest for you.' Her forehead slid down onto her hands. 'When we found you at the Ministry he was . . . almost exultant, like some big kid on a day out. I heard that he was laughing, taunting Bellatrix.' Again Harry saw Sirius falling and closed his eyes. He heard the scrape of Tonks chair and felt her hands on his shoulders. When she spoke again her voice was gentle but firm. 'He'd be bloody annoyed if he thought that you were blaming yourself, so don't.'

'I could have done more. I could have tried harder to study Occlumency.'

'And succeeded?' The strange note was back in Tonks' voice. 'What if Sirius really had been captured? And you'd not known? Sometimes there just aren't any right answers Harry. I only know that he . . . It did not occur to him to blame you. He was proud of you. For Sirius, you did the right thing. That you loved him enough to take on Voldemort himself . . . I mean it Harry, let it go.

'I should have remembered that Snape was part of the Order.'

'But you didn't.' Tonks sighed and her hands left his shoulders. 'When I was growing up Sirius was like my big brother. I . . . work for an organisation that locked up and tortured an innocent man. For twelve years. Despite seeing all of the reports concerning his committal to Azkaban, what I didn't see was that the case for the prosecution was not so much flawed as non-existent. If you want to blame someone, blame me. I just didn't see it - didn't think that we could be so wrong.' Tonks walked to the open door and, arms wrapped around herself, stood gazing out of it. 'Snape says that Aurors and Death Eaters have a lot in common. He said . . . there's the same sort of arrogance: people believing themselves superior to everyone else and above the law. I think he was overstating it but . . . Sirius should never have been sent to Azkaban. You should not have had to grow up with the Dursleys. The Ministry, the Order . . . Sirius refused to blame us but we let you both down, Harry. I'm sorry.'

'You could only have been . . .'

'Your age, Harry. At least you went after him. I wish . . . I wish to God that I had. Instead of believing everything I was told.'

There was a curious rigidity to the way Tonks was standing and, with a sudden compassion, Harry realised that she was struggling to keep control. Rather unsteadily, he got to his feet. 'Not your fault.' Even as he said it, he wondered if it was true, but there was absolutely no point in trying to make her feel worse.

Harry glanced back to where Jane stood, appalled, her gaze shifting from one to the other. She gave him a look of mute appeal. Unsure of what she wanted, Harry shook his head. Jane went to put her arms around Tonks. 'Shh,' she murmured, pulling Tonks' head down into her shoulder. Her wide, dark eyes gazed back into Harry's, and then they closed.

Harry went back to his room and lay down on the bed, and tried, very hard, to clear his mind.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry awoke to a gentle tapping on the door. 'What is it?' He opened his eyes to find that it was still daylight.

'Supper.' Tonks' voice, sounding rather subdued.

Harry washed his face and then went downstairs to eat a quiet supper with Tonks, Jane and Snape. Afterwards, unasked, he washed the dishes and was putting them away when he heard a resounding crash from the lounge.

'Where is it?' Jane, clad in her biking gear, was addressing Snape. Behind her the door was still swinging slightly. She looked angry and faintly ridiculous.

'Where is what?' With an air of contrived boredom, Snape put down the book he had been reading.

'My motorbike.' Her knuckles were white on the chin piece of her helmet.

'Where you left it I would suppose. Did you look carefully?'

Jane spun round and went back out. When she returned she was holding what looked like a toy motorbike in one hand. 'May I point out,' she said carefully, 'that perhaps the most important part of your Contract with Miranda was your promise never to use magic to resolve an argument?'

'Indeed.' Snape stood up, folded his arms and gave Jane a nasty, anticipatory smirk. 'Given that, according to the Internet sites I visited last night, the minimum age for riding that motorbike in this country is seventeen, I must ask if you really believe that Miranda would have accorded you such permission?'

Jane managed to look both shifty and annoyed. 'Perhaps.'

'Oh? I think not,' murmured Snape silkily, 'and therefore, there can be no argument.' He gazed at Jane for a moment and then asked coldly, 'How did you obtain the vehicle?'

Harry was glad that he was not the one answering questions. Jane froze and then shrugged. 'Bought it second hand.'

Snape waited until she gave in. 'I was wearing the gear, had the money in my pocket. People believe what suits them.' She gave Snape a defiant look. 'Still,' she continued, 'it shouldn't be too difficult to change it back.'

_This,_ thought Harry, _from someone who's just learnt her first spell._

'Certainly not.' Snape's smile had acquired a strong component of malicious pleasure. 'Once you have removed the curses.'

'What sort of curses?'

'Nothing trivial, you may be assured.'

Jane's fingers had begun to twitch. She turned to Tonks.

'Probably easier to get a new bike,' advised Tonks. 'Although you might end up with a small collection.'

Jane rocked back on her heels, gave her father a particularly filthy glare and then, saying nothing, went upstairs. _Steel-toed boots_ thought Harry. Even so she was managing to make a surprising amount of noise.

'Now what?' asked Tonks.

'Usually music, played excessively loudly. Joan Baez for the main part. While she did not believe that I was a wizard, Jane appeared to have no such difficulty with regard to my being a member of a right wing death squad.' Calmly, Snape poured himself a glass of Scotch.

'What are you going to do?' asked Tonks.

'Sit on the beach and pretend that I care.' Snape took his glass of whisky away down the garden. From upstairs there came the sound of music played at extreme volume. Tonks cocked a doubtful ear to the ceiling, poured a glass for herself and then followed Snape. Harry went to finish clearing up in the kitchen.

Actually Harry found the music enjoyable, if rather loud. He finished cleaning and then went upstairs to find Jane sitting at the computer. She glanced at him and then, blushing, turned down the volume. 'Sorry, Harry.' He sat down next to her.

'Joan Baez?' asked Harry.

'This track's Joan Osborne. Baez doesn't seem to be having the required effect. I think the sod's actually starting to enjoy it. Supercilious, smug . . .'

'You're trying to annoy him?' Harry was dumfounded. 'Why?'

'Because I can.' She looked embarrassed. 'Actually I bought the bike because he's been trying so hard, and so obviously, to be reasonable. I wondered what he'd do if I did something he really couldn't live with.' Jane picked up the miniaturised motorbike. 'I guess I found out.' She put the bike back on the desk. 'So, what's he doing now?'

'Sitting on the beach with a glass of scotch.'

'Ah, and Tonks?'

'Same thing,' replied Harry. What are you doing?'

'Downloading some music from the Internet.'

'How d'you do that?' Harry had, of course, heard of computers but had had very little experience of them.

'How much do you know about computers?'

'Nothing.'

She smiled. 'It's easy.' Jane dragged her own chair out of the way. 'Sit so you can use the keyboard comfortably.'

When Jane finally stretched and stood up, Harry was surprised to discover that a couple of hours had passed. 'Something I want to see on the box,' she told him. Downstairs there was no sign of Snape or Tonks and, when the program finished, almost an hour after that they had still not appeared.

'Put the kettle on Harry. I'll go and see if the lovebirds want a cup.' Harry's jaw dropped. 'What?' said Jane, mischief lighting up her face.

'I'll put the kettle on,' said Harry firmly, 'but then I think I'm going to bed.'

'Come on Harry. Three hours they've been out there. Assuming they haven't actually murdered each other, this should be amusing.'

'Goodnight Jane.'

'Goodnight Harry, sleep well.' He watched as she bounced down the steps and across the darkened lawn. A bat flitted across the pool of light from the windows. Harry could hear an owl and the sound of the sea grinding pebbles on the beach. Other than that it was quiet, the traffic noise that never really stopped at Privet Drive completely absent, and then he could hear the murmur of voices from the beach. He closed the door and went to switch on the kettle.

_'If you stay out of his way, he'll probably stay out of yours,'_ Jane had said. Perhaps it was time to give the Potions Master some space.

Harry lay in his darkened room, listening to music from downstairs and watching the blue night beyond the window. Eventually the music stopped and he heard Snape come up the stairs. As the hours passed and stars rose in the sky, Harry's heart ached and he wondered, bitterly, why something as simple as this quiet night could not have belonged to himself and Sirius.


	5. Cleaning and Compromise

Harry awoke in a familiar room. It felt late in the morning and curiously peaceful. He washed and dressed and wandered downstairs where he was surprised to find no sign of Jane or Tonks.

'Good Morning Mr. Potter.'

_Oh . . . bother, _thought Harry as he turned to face the Potions Master vaguely wondering if Snape had to try hard in order to achieve that degree of insincerity.

'Good morning sir. Where are . . ?'

'Jane and Tonks? They have gone shopping: Diagon Ally and other places, so they will not be back for some time. Which just leaves you and me, Mr. Potter. Time to make yourself useful, I believe.'

A loud noise, not entirely unlike a chainsaw in action interrupted him. Harry looked down to find Hedwig weaving between Snape's legs, leaving white hairs on his trousers. Snape made a disgusted sound through his teeth and stepped away. 'I am currently working on a new version of the Draught of Living Death,' he remarked glaring at Hedwig who had stopped weaving and stared balefully back, 'and have reached the experimental stage. Alternatively,' he turned to Harry, 'you might remember to feed her.' There were white hairs on his shirt and Harry wondered if he too had been subjected to Hedwig's demands.

A faceful of cat could be persuasive.

Harry found some mince in the fridge, warmed it in the microwave, and put it on a plate for Hedwig. He also refilled the water dish. He made tea and toast for himself and, having taken his time over breakfast, went in search of Snape. He didn't have far to look. Snape was sitting on a sofa with a book open on his lap.

'Professor?'

Snape stood up. 'As a muggleborn, I expect that you know all about motor vehicles?'

Harry didn't like the way he stressed the word 'muggleborn'. 'No sir. I'm sorry. I don't.'

'Then you should regard this as an educational opportunity. Come with me.'

Beyond the garden gate was another stone built construction that Harry had noticed the day before. _Garage, _he thought, and so it proved. Snape swung open one of the doors and Harry could see a large, old fashioned car within, maroon in colour.'

'Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?' murmured Snape. ' Reconstruct it, get it out of the garage and clean it. Then call me.' He handed Harry some keys along with the book, which turned out to be an old car maintenance manual, before heading back towards the house leaving Harry face to face with a beautiful but shabby automobile. Most of it was covered in cobwebs and its chassis rested upon bricks. This, he decided, was going to take a while.

When some hours later he had finally finished, the car was finally clean but Harry was filthy and his knuckles were skinned. He was also decidedly hungry. Having emptied the bucket he went back into the house where a soft thump and an odd scuttering sound drew him towards the library. As he watched, a roll of parchment hit the wall and fell to the pile below it, where it bounced and rolled away accompanied by the peculiar sounds that he had heard and soft obscenities from his nemesis. It had never occurred to Harry that Snape might hate marking exams. The idea cheered him up immensely.

'Professor?' Snape looked up from the red-spattered parchment before him. 'I've put the wheels back on and inflated the tyres. The battery's back in but it's flat. The car's out of the garage and I've washed it.'

Unspeaking, Snape rose to his feet. Harry followed him out.

Harry's cleaning of Vernon Dursley's car had been a weekly event for as long as he was able to remember and he had been careful to do a thorough job. Snape could find nothing to complain about, even when he had lifted the bonnet and inspected the engine compartment - the source of much of the damage to Harry's knuckles.

'Well well, it would appear that you perform adequately in the capacity of a house elf.' Snape turned to observe the effect of his words. When Harry said nothing, he sneered. 'Clean the windows.' Harry watched him stride back indoors, took a deep breath and reminded himself about the exams.

Having made himself a sandwich, he sat down on the terrace to watch Hedwig stalking butterflies though the garden's overgrown flowerbeds. Beyond the wall the sea sparkled calmly in the sunlight. He could hear stones moving on the beach, birdsong and, from the library window, the occasional thump and scutter. _Seize the moment, _thought Harry, puzzled at finding himself feeling so at peace and simultaneously so alive.

_Home._ A shame that it wasn't his.

There were extending ladders in the garage. These he used to reach the upstairs windows. After a while Snape came out to stand watching him work. Harry could feel resentment building and tried to suppress it, then to concentrate on the windows and ignore it. Then, breathing deeply, Harry tried to accept that he _was_ angry with Snape and let it go.

Quite abruptly, almost as if a switch had been thrown, his anger appeared to become somehow distanced from him, almost like water flowing around and underneath him. It would still be easy to tip his fragile equanimity but he found himself giving Snape a wave and a pleasant smile. Snape's smirk disappeared as quickly. Instead he appeared calculating. _'Free yourself of emotion', _thought Harry wonderingly,_ so that's how it's done._ Snape drew his wand. 'Ready, Mr. Potter?'

Twelve feet up a ladder, above the stone of the terrace; Harry didn't even have time to panic. He sat himself into the rungs of the ladder and concentrated on breathing, the brightness of the sea and the feel of sun and wind.

_'Legilimens!'_

For a moment his memory insisted that he was in the chamber of mysteries, but it was just that, a memory. Bright water still stretched to the horizon before his eyes. Harry brought his gaze down, across the beach and into the garden. He turned and, slowly, seeing and feeling the raised metal of the ladder's treads, descended. Then he met Snape's eyes.

Expressionlessly, Snape lowered his wand. 'Better. A pity that you could not have done that before' When Harry didn't react, he turned and went indoors.

Resisting Legilimency was similar to, but also very different from, resisting _'Imperius'_, and now he had done it. Harry went over it again in his mind - not so much pushing away as a sort of mental side step, allowing the assault to slip past him. He sat down heavily on the terrace steps and began to shake. He allowed himself a few minutes and then he returned to the windows.

Just as he was finishing the work the skies opened. Harry put away the ladder and the bucket and came indoors utterly sodden. A hot shower and a change of clothes improved his sense of wellbeing. Snape was still marking exams and did not look happy.

'Professor.' Snape looked up and Harry wondered if anyone would be passing their exams this year. 'I . . . Did you want me to cook dinner?'

'You can cook?'

'Yes.'

Snape continued marking the exam and then flung it into the wall. As it scuttered away he rose to his feet. 'Potter, do you imagine my existence so dull that I would willingly swallow anything that you had prepared

'Fine. I was just trying to help.'

'Trying to curry favour with me?' His lip curled. 'You must think me very stupid.'

Anger surged through Harry and he tried desperately to control it as he watched Snape slowly bent over, his hands on the desk, struggling to remain upright. _The wards hide the use of magic but they're drawing energy from Snape_ he remembered, and Snape appeared to be half conscious and in pain.

_Aunt Marge_ thought Harry, remembering his inadvertently blowing her up. He could not afford another incident like that. None of them could. 'No! I . . .' He turned away. Once again he could see the runes flowing through the walls and, in his memory or perhaps not, he could hear high pitched laughter.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. He imagined the bright water beyond the beach and his anger drained to leave what felt like an aching hollow space within him. 'Why? Why do you hate me so much? What have I done? You had reason to hate my father but I'm not him.' He swallowed painfully.

'No. Your father never put three of his class mates into Saint Mungo's.'

_Malfoy?_ Harry stared at Snape in horror. _They hadn't been pretty but . . ._ He thought about the last time he had seen Malfoy with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, slung into a luggage rack on the Hogwarts Express, no longer looking human.

'So you couldn't decide which spell to use?' Snape whispered. 'How long did it take you and your friends to achieve quite that result? It took four days to undo it. Did you notice that Goyle wasn't breathing? Or didn't it matter?' Snape had not let go of the desk. Some remote part of Harry's mind wondered if this was to restrain his hands, if Snape was afraid that he might strangle him.

'I didn't . . .' he began, 'I didn't know we'd hurt them, not like that, we didn't mean to. They tried to attack me, right in front a carriage-full of DA members. Every bloody year,' a small, bitter laugh broke from him, 'every year they try to attack me and they get it wrong. I wish they'd give it a rest.' The ache within him had become unbearable. It was hard to speak. 'I'm not like that. I tried to use Cruciatus on Bellatrix and she laughed at me, said you had to want to hurt people. I don't even want to kill Voldemort and it's that or die.'

'What are you talking about Potter?'

'The Prophesy. One of us has to die at the hand of the other. Neither can live while the other survives.' Harry glanced up to find Snape watching him with narrowed eyes. 'The recording was destroyed but it was Trelawney, and Professor Dumbledore who heard it. He showed it to me in his penseive.'

'Trelawney?' Snape stared at him in disbelief. Harry nodded. 'Trelawney is a myopic, fraudulent, old baggage without the wit to keep her mouth shut concerning the lamentable depths of her own ignorance. You are a distraction for the Dark lord! Nothing more.'

'She was right before, when she foretold Wormtail going back to . . . the Dark Lord.' Harry looked into the dark tunnels of Snape's black eyes. 'I wish you were right,' he concluded bleakly. 'I really do.'

'Go to your room, Potter. Do not come down until I call you.' Harry turned away and went quietly to his room.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Face down on his bed, Harry heard the car draw up outside. After a while there was a tapping on the door. He got up and opened it to find Jane looking concerned. 'Are you alright?'

'Fine'

'Come and have some dinner.'

'Professor Snape said to stay here until he called me.'

'He's not here. He's gone to see Dumbledore.'

'I'm not hungry.' Actually he felt sick. 'I'm ok Jane. I'm just a bit tired.'

Jane pushed past him into the bedroom. She went to the window, turned and allowed her back to slide down the wall until she reached the floor, where she sat looking up at him. 'Tell me about the prophesy.'

Harry sat down on the floor with his shoulders resting against the bed and started to talk.

He talked for hours. As it grew darker he could no longer see her clearly. She was simply a quiet presence, occasionally asking questions but mostly just listening. If Snape threw him out, as Harry feared he would, he would probably never see her again. And he had to tell someone.

Finally they sat in silence for so long that Harry wondered if Jane had fallen asleep, but as he started to stand up she did the same. He moved towards the window and she turned until he could see her face in the dim light from the sky outside. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'You probably didn't need to hear all that.'

'Harry,' Jane ran her hands over her face, 'social skills aren't my thing. In fact "the social grace of duckweed" probably just about covers it.' She took a deep breath. 'If you were to, oh, take your broom and fly out over the ocean until you fell in, do you think people would be better off?'

Harry thought about that and tried to crush the feeling rising within him 'Maybe.' _But maybe not, _he thought. He did not dare to hope. 'If he's right and I'm just a distraction,'

'And if not?' She paused and then continued more softly. 'And even if he is right, you can choose to be more. You fought Voldemort a year ago and he didn't win. And you don't have to do it alone. You have friends.'

'Who get hurt.'

'Who would still get hurt if you had never been born.' She placed a hand on his arm. 'You're a good person Harry, and as long as you continue to care about that you will be.' Her hand dropped and she shook her head. 'Sorry, I think that came out wrong. Goodnight Harry.'

'Goodnight Jane.'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry awoke to the rattle of rain on the windows and the awareness that he would have to face Snape. He dressed in the clothes that he had arrived in and then took out his broomstick maintenance kit and started work.

Eventually there came a knock and then the door swung open. 'Potter, downstairs.' Harry got up and followed him downstairs to the library where Snape shut the door behind them. 'Show me your hand.' Harry held out his right hand, palm upward. His wrist was seized and twisted until the words 'I must not tell lies' inscribed into the back of his hand were visible. 'Potter, you are an idiot. Why did you not tell anyone?'

'I didn't think it would do any good,' said Harry tiredly. I didn't want her to think she was getting to me. How did you find out?' He hadn't mentioned it to Jane.

'Molly Weasley found out. And then she had a little chat with Professor Dumbledore. Sit.' Snape sat in the chair behind the desk. There was another chair in front of the shelves. Harry put the pile of books on top of it onto the floor, placed it in front of the desk and sat down. 'Why did you not think that it would do any good?'

'Professor Dumbledore was avoiding me. Professor McGonagall said it was between me and Umbridge.'

Snape was staring at him. 'You did not tell her about that.'

'No, just about the Quiddich ban. But if she couldn't do anything without getting into trouble, there was no point in telling her.'

'It did not occur to you that the fact that Umbridge cutting up the "boy who lived" was something that we could use against them?'

'No.'

'Or that, because you stayed silent, others would?'

Horrified by that thought, Harry found that he could say nothing.

'After your vision of the Department of Mysteries why did you not come and tell me?'

'I had forgotten that you were a member of the order,' said Harry stiffly. 'And anyway I wouldn't have expected you to listen. I didn't trust you.'

There was a long silence and then 'You didn't trust me? Do you now?'

Harry thought about that and then decided that it wasn't something to think about. Did he trust Snape? He didn't like him but . . . 'Yes.'

'Then in future, if you have a problem you will tell someone. If you can tell no one else you will tell me.' Snape got to his feet.

'You're not throwing me out?'

'If that were an option you would not be here now.'

The Potions Master had opened the door and stood waiting for Harry to leave. He remained seated. 'I don't understand.'

'It's really not difficult. Your presence here is the price of my own child's safety.'

'Dumbledore?'

'Professor Dumbledore.' The reply was clearly automatic. 'No. Not entirely.' Snape shut the door and returned to stand with his hands resting on the back of the seat. 'Jane has the talisman known as the "Star of Grace". The name is recent, acquired in the several centuries it spent around the neck of a gilded Madonna somewhere in middle Europe. The article itself is ancient and, while magically less powerful than certain others, effective. Jane, becoming lost, found herself in the right place at the right time to rescue you and in doing so has learned the truth about our world. You will recall what happened when you arrived here?'

'Jane said that Professor Dumbledore wanted to obliviate her.'

'Indeed. Instead she has been promised protection.' Harry asked himself if he should consider this an expression of gratitude from his teacher and then decided that it probably wasn't. Snape sat down at the desk. 'You missed supper last night?'

'Yes.'

'Because I sent you to your room and told you to stay there. You can disobey me but you won't want to.'

Oddly Snape did not appear smug. 'Miranda also used old magic to protect her child. "Ancient Runes" are called so for a reason. You study neither Runes nor Arithmancy so you must simply accept that with three in the household the magic is vastly more powerful than with two. So much so that while you may leave with the agreement of either Jane or myself, attempting to evict you would probably destroy the wards in a manner likely to attract unwelcome attention.'

Harry swallowed. 'If you want me to, I'll leave,' he ventured.

Snape sat back and regarded him thoughtfully. 'Potter, can you see the Runes?'

'The writing in the walls? Yes. But I saw them the first night I was here, before I drank the tea.'

Snape was staring at him again. 'Indeed?' Fingers touching his mouth, he appeared to be thinking deeply. 'Blood magic has been little more than a hobby for an intellectual elite for centuries,' he began. 'You might want to compare it with Meteorology: the Muggle study of the weather. While it is possible to make generalisations as to its effects, it remains extremely difficult, under most circumstances, to make accurate predictions.

Snape leant forward, steepling his fingers on the desk. 'It may be that the loss of your Godfather as well as the protection of your relatives caused the magic to become un-anchored in some way. That being so my life debt to your father, as well as Jane's need for access to the magical world, may have given rise to a new connection.

Harry thought about that. Harry didn't want to think about that.

'Potter,' Snape continued, you should accept that you are _not_ important and you never were, except inasmuch as that you were the reason for what your mother did. It is _her_ magic that saved you and that continues to protect you and each time that you so gratuitously go gallivanting into danger some part of it is lost.'

There was silence as Snape appeared to restrain his temper. 'You will at least try to stay out of trouble.' Again he got to his feet, went to the door and opened it. 'And now I have things to do.'

Thus dismissed, Harry found that he couldn't resist the temptation. 'Potions exams, sir?'

'Dark Arts.'

_Of course Umbridge has gone, _thought Harry as he tried to make sense of the rather odd expression on Snape's face. 'How's that funny sir?'

'Professor Dumbledore forbade harm to Umbridge. I believe that that prohibition may have been withdrawn.'

'What are you going to do?'

'Miss Umbridge is a respected senior employee of the Ministry of Magic. I have no intention of doing anything.' He smirked and then the door was closed behind Harry.

_Oh, really, _thought Harry. As he turned away he heard laughter from the kitchen and remembered that he was hungry.


	6. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus

'POTTER!'

Harry ran up the stairs to find Snape standing in the doorway of his room. 'I suggest that you collect your cretinous cat before I am tempted to take up taxidermy.'

'Er, where is she?'

'In the wardrobe.'

Sure enough Hedwig was reclining in the bottom of the wardrobe in a jumble of clothes that she had evidently pulled from their hangers. Although large rips in a number of items still hanging (if unevenly) showed that she had not been entirely successful, she didn't seem too bothered as she yawned up at Harry.

_Oh no . . ._ Harry picked her up and she promptly began to purr loudly. 'Hedwig you've got to stay out of Professor Snape's room.' he admonished her. He tightened his grip on his familiar as visions of 'things in jars' in Snape's office swam into his mind. 'I'm really, really sorry,' he told Snape. 'She's no trouble as an owl.' Snape said nothing. 'She's a bloody monster as a cat. I don't know what's come over her.'

For the last few weeks he had tried to make himself useful about the house and to stay out of Snape's way. Snape had responded by appearing generally to ignore him. Hedwig, however, since becoming a cat, had changed and not for the better. She stole, and what she couldn't eat she played with. A loud thumping had turned out to be Hedwig playing ball with sprouts. Worse, she had developed a perverse affection for Snape which she demonstrated by way of such thoughtful little acts such as leaving live crabs in his shoes. Harry didn't know how she had not been nipped, but then, maybe she had. Hedwig had always been stubborn.

Harry turned to flee.

'Oh, and Potter . . . '

Harry turned back. It didn't sound good. Snape was indicating something on his pillow that on closer inspection turned out to be most of a mouse, minus fur coat and looking somewhat melted.

'What happened to that?' asked Harry revolted.

'Any number of things I should think,' replied Snape folding his arms, but among the more recent - regurgitation.'

Harry was inclined to throw up himself. The horrible, hairy fiend in feline form in his arms looked smug.

'I shall be at Hogwarts most of the day, which will allow you to remake the bed and wash the bedding. And, Mr. Potter . . .' Harry braced himself, 'Happy Birthday.'

Harry gave Snape a startled look and fled.

'He was threatening to take up taxidermy,' he later told Jane, 'I really don't want to lock her in my room, but . . .'

'He'd not hurt her,' Jane assured him grinning. 'Although _you_ might want to watch your back.'

'Right. Who else could make "Happy Birthday" sound like a threat?'

'Could well be,' said Tonks and then 'I could bake you a cake.'

By mid afternoon Harry had decided that he had had worse birthdays. Jane had helped with the bed and Tonks had made good her threat to bake a cake. Not having changed her body shape for so long meant that she was considerably less clumsy than usual and, so far, nothing had been broken. He felt ridiculously pleased that she had gone to so much trouble for him and cheerfully cleaned up the multitude of dishes that she seemed to require.

'Do we have any birthday candles?' Tonks asked Jane, pridefully surveying her chocolate-butter-icing covered confection.

'Sorry, no. Nice cake though.' One questing finger was slapped away.

'You can have the bowl,' said Tonks sternly.

'Hey, what about me?' put in Harry.

'Share.'

Jane swiped a small amount of icing with one finger and returned to the Transfiguration textbook she was reading, leaving him with the bowl. In the warm, orange and chocolate scented kitchen, Harry was enjoying the deliciously guilty pleasure of eating butter-icing with his fingers when Snape walked in.

'What are you doing Potter?'

Rather sheepishly, Harry took his fingers out of his mouth. 'Tonks baked me a birthday cake, sir.'

'Tonks . . . baked a cake?'

'I baked a cake.' Tonks raised the item in question for inspection. 'See. And the house is still standing.'

She turned to put the cake on the table and promptly tripped over Hedwig.

Snape caught her shoulder before she could fall but, unfortunately, this had the effect of increasing the angular velocity of the cake. Abruptly friction alone proved insufficient to keep the cake on the plate and the dark mass took to the air. While cake aerodynamics are not generally spectacular; the results of the cake's impact on the table were.

'Something I said?' queried Jane, putting down her book and scraping butter-icing from an eyebrow.

Tonks had drawn her wand. After one look at the enraged Auror, Hedwig fled. 'Bloody, bloody cat,' whispered Tonks sitting down. Snape took a bottle of wine from the fridge, poured a glass and handed it to her. 'Thanks. Bloody _cat_.'

After Jane had managed to clean herself up a bit at the sink, she started to put the bigger fragments of cake into a bowl. 'Birthday sherry trifle, Harry?'

By the time that his birthday supper ended Harry had decided that it had been a bloody brilliant birthday. He was wearing one of the new shirts that Tonks had bought him and the new jeans from Jane. Snape was fairly obviously attempting to refrain from sniping. It was at the Potions Master's suggestion that he had had a single glass of something rather nice called 'Barolo' and the 'Birthday Trifle' had been surprisingly good. Then Snape leant across the table and handed him a small package.

Neither Jane nor Tonks were acting as thought they expected it to explode so, cautiously, Harry opened it to find a box with, inset into the lid, what looked like a small section of a chess board. Just four black and white squares with an ornate edge. 'Tap it with your wand,' said Snape.

'I don't have one.'

'Then borrow Jane's.'

Harry understood: a gift for a gift. Snape was unwilling to be obliged to McGonagall. For the wand that she had given Jane, this . . . whatever it was. Tonks handed over her wand and Harry tapped the gift. Back and white squares slid and the box expanded to become a large chess board.

'Lift the lid.'

Harry did so and found a cavity about ten times the volume of the exterior. It was empty.

'Storage. Close it and tap it again,' murmured Snape, and this time 'ludo'.

Harry obeyed and chess pieces appeared.

They were not the usual pieces. The rooks were dragons. The knights rode thestrals and, in place of bishops, there were beautiful young women with harps who smiled enticingly. The pawns however looked utterly disreputable. They possessed a mismatched collection of weapons and expressions that ranged between lethargy and depravity via psychosis.

Harry reached to pick one up.

'I would not recommend it.'

Harry withdrew his hand.

'Oo you lookin' at?' The pawn demanded, rattling its pike 'I'll stick this up yer nose, ye tosser.'

Harry looked questioningly at Snape.

'They will go where you direct them although, after a while, they wander off, so try to remember their positions. And never leave the chess set out as they have a tendency to acquire things.' He smirked. 'And remember . . . you have to sleep sometime.'

Harry though about that. 'How do I put it away?'

'Sod off.'

'Pardon?'

'Tap the any part of the set with your wand and say "sod off", Snape elucidated.

'Right. What if I'm part-way through a game?'

Snape sat back and drank from his wineglass. 'They are open to negotiation.'

Harry stared at the chess set which to a figure stared back. 'Er, hello?' said Harry.

The pieces began to talk amongst themselves and it was at this point that Professor McGonagall appeared outside the door with a large umbrella. Jane got up and opened the door. McGonagall managed to close the umbrella and came into the kitchen.

'Good evening,' she said. 'I thought I might bring Mr. Potter's OWL results.' She pulled a heavy manila envelope from her robes and handed it to Harry. Then she noticed the chess set. Aghast, she turned to Snape. 'Severus you didn't . . .?'

'Tea, Minerva?' Snape stood up.

'When I said I didn't wish to see the thing again . . .'

'The sherry trifle's good.'

'That chess set is dangerous!'

'How so, Minerva?'

'What? The dragons breathe fire!'

'They can scarcely be more dangerous than the real thing. I'm sure our "Tri-Wizard Champion" can deal with a toy,' Snape murmured unctuously while pouring a glass of wine for McGonagall. 'Professor Dumbledore was perhaps less than wise to allow them to nest in his beard, and conceivably even less so to disturb them whilst they were asleep.'

McGonagall seized the wineglass and took a gulp. 'But Severus the language . . . they told the Headmaster to . . . '

'Away and boil his head?'

'No.' She looked distinctly uneasy. 'What they told him to do with the rough end of a pineapple.'

The Potions Master smiled mordantly. 'I trust that he was not so ill-advised as to attempt any such thing?' He pulled out a chair for McGonagall and, clearly without thinking, she sat down. 'So, no problem then? How were Mr. Potter's results?'

McGonagall took another couple of gulps of the wine. 'Rather good actually,' she said faintly.

Harry opened the envelope. 'I believe,' purred Snape, 'that you promised to help Mr. Potter to achieve his ambition of becoming an Auror?' McGonagall glanced up and then finished her wine.

'Mr. Potter,' Snape turned to address Harry, 'would you care to enlighten us all regarding your Potions results.'

Noticing that even the chess pieces appeared interested, Harry swallowed. 'Exceeds Expectations,' he muttered.

'I'm sorry I missed that, would you care to repeat it?'

'I said "Exceeds Expectations".'

'Sir.'

'Exceeds Expectations, sir.'

'Ah. Well, as you well know, I accept onto my NEWT course, only those who have achieved an "Outstanding" result. How very unfortunate.' Snape shook his head in mock regret. 'Tell me, Mr. Potter, did you manage to obtain an "Outstanding" in _any_ of your subjects?'

'Defence against the Dark Arts . . . sir.'

'Indeed? More wine Minerva?' There was the faintest trace of a sardonic smile on the face of the Head of Slytherin House.

Professor McGonagall's own lips grew thin and she stared balefully at her junior colleague but, eventually, she sighed and held out her glass. 'You know that I can make no promises?'

'It was my understanding that you had already made one.' By now the expression on Snape's face might have given pause to a school of sharks.

'Half the children will refuse to board the train.'

'They won't find out until after they arrive.'

McGonagall sipped her wine reflectively. 'True.'

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the clock ticked the remaining seconds of his birthday Harry considered his surroundings. The room itself was shabby, the rug threadbare, the sheets on the bed worn to smoothness. Jane's cosmographic posters remained brightening the walls, but it was his trunk that lay open at the foot of the bed. His broomstick leant into the corner. It felt like _his_ room. Far more so than 'Dudley's second bedroom' at the Dursley's.

On the bedside table the Snarky Chess Set had finally shut up. While 'sod off' had restored the box to its original condition, a series of screams and what sounded like a small war had woken Harry up. _Happy Birthday Harry,_ he told himself as midnight came and went. He fancied a cup of tea. And, as this was not the Dursley's house, there was no reason for him not to get up and make himself one. Quietly, so as not to awaken the quarrelsome chess pieces, Harry rolled out of bed and headed downstairs.

Padding through the darkened lounge, he could hear Snape and Tonks talking in the library. Oddly, they seemed to get on quite well.

Harry filled the kettle and then took the lid off the tea caddy. Finding it empty, he opened the larder to get another packet of teabags, and had found one in the shambollic lack of order that was Jane's store cupboard, when he recognized the Potions Master's familiar footsteps. Without thinking, Harry stepped back into the cupboard and closed the door behind him. Through the long crack at the door jamb he watched as Snape put down the cups he was carrying and switched on the kettle. As Tonks stepped into view, Snape turned to face her.

'Why not?' asked Tonks.

'I can't.'

'Clearly you can.' Tonks smiled. 'She's lovely.'

As Harry wondered what they were talking about, Tonks stepped closer until there were only inches between them. With Snape's back against the deep old-fashioned ceramic sink she held her quarry at bay. 'That was a long time ago,' he replied softly, 'before Azkaban.'

'That should not have happened.'

'It was inevitable.' His voice was bitter. 'How did it go? "Failure to make full disclosure." They would do it again."

"No!"

'I will not buy my safety with hers,'

'Torture is totally unacceptable, Severus. I'm an Auror. I can make enough of a fuss . . .'

'To get yourself confined to Saint Mungo's until such time as you are ready to agree with their version of events.' She looked stubborn. 'Tonks,' Snape spoke as if lightly, 'are you really ready to give up your career and possibly your life for me?' Sneering, he pushed past her.

'Yes.'

Snape stopped dead, and then turned slowly. 'Yes I am,' Tonks confirmed, meeting his eyes. 'Foolish perhaps but there it is. Use Legilimency if you want.' Snape drew his wand. Tonks stepped back against the sink and, putting her hands behind her, grasped it to brace herself.

'Legilimens!' A look of utter astonishment very slowly gave way to something else. Not breaking eye contact Snape put away his wand and stepped closer to Tonks. 'You're sure?' His voice was thick with something unidentifiable.

'Yes.'

Snape lifted Tonks and sat her on the edge of the sink. Using her hands and knees she steadied herself against him. He put one arm under her shoulders and brought his other hand down to raise her skirt. There was a long moment and then, as he closed the distance between them, Tonks gasped and buried her face in his shoulder.

'Look at me.' Snape simply held her until she raised her face and met his eyes. She smiled and Snape's hips began to rock slowly until her breathing and his movement synchronised. The cupboard began to feel very close around Harry. Tonks' almost drugged look and rising colour were making him extremely uncomfortable and the little noises she was making weren't helping. Her mouth opened and her breathing grew ragged and it became clear that she was struggling not to scream. Then, as she went rigid and stopped breathing altogether, Snape's intent expression became no expression at all. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder and her arms tightened around him. At this point it was the happy little chuckle from Tonks that undid Harry.

Harry leant his head against the timber of the door and tried to clear his head.

'You're beautiful.' Tonks said softly.

'You,' decided Snape, 'are warped.'

'Compared to the rest of my family?' There was laughter in her voice.

'Undoubtedly. Although anyone sufficiently daft to have anything to do with the Black family . . .' she kissed him. Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them Snape was lifting Tonks down from the sink. They kissed again, a slow and gentle exploration, until Snape pushed her away. 'Go on.' Harry would not have believed that Snape could smile like that. Tonks disappeared from view.

Snape rinsed the cups, switched on the kettle and opened the tea caddy.

Then he turned and opened the larder door.

'Potter?'

'I came down for a cup of tea. I was trying to stay out of your way,' Harry babbled, his head full of Tonk's face. He suddenly found himself staring at Snape's trousers. His chin shot up and he forced himself to meet the Potion Master's black eyes. 'Just kill me now.'

Snape wrenched the teabags out of Harry's nerveless fingers and shut the larder door in his face. Then he made two cups of tea and left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went.

Creeping quietly back upstairs, Harry pinched himself hard enough to leave bruises and still didn't believe it.

-----------------------------------------------------

'Still alive then Harry?' asked Tonks. She was drinking tea in the kitchen.

_Did she have to sound so cheerful?_ thought Harry. He could feel himself blushing furiously. 'Morning, Tonks.'

'Slow poison, maybe?'

'Probably. Tonks . . . I was just trying to stay out of his way. I'm sorry.'

Jane came in and sat down. 'What's that cat of yours done now?'

'Not Hedwig. Me. You said, if I stayed out of his way, he'd probably stay out of mine? I was making a cup of tea last night, really late, and I heard him coming toward the kitchen,' Harry swallowed, 'so I hid in the larder.'

'And?'

Harry could find no way to continue.

'Last night,' said Tonks, 'I finally managed to seduce your father. In the kitchen. While Harry was hiding in the cupboard. I'm afraid that Harry got a bit of an eyeful.'

Jane regarded the sink thoughtfully. 'Tonks, wouldn't his bed have been more comfortable?'

'You don't mind.'

'I think I already said - he needs all the friends he can get. Jane's voice was quiet but clear. 'Miranda . . .' she almost managed to smile, 'won't need the bed.' She got up and left the kitchen.

'Harry, go and talk to her,' said Tonks softly.

Harry found Jane down on the beach, sitting on a rock staring out to sea.

'Are you alright?'

'Ya.' Jane took a deep breath. 'It's just I miss her. Her eyes shut. 'About once a week, late at night, I phone home: all but the last number because, of course, I don't want to disturb her. Sometimes I believe that she might actually answer.' Tears streaked from below her eyelids. 'I know she's dead, I just . . .' She wiped her face with her hand. 'You probably think that's ridiculous.' She got up clumsily and Harry put his hand on her shoulder. When she didn't pull away he put his arms around her.

'No. No not at all.' Strange how very comforting he found it to hold someone, to give comfort.

_Sirius, Sirius you bloody fool. _Harry's sense of loss defied description but, as Jane wept, his own pain seemed to ease a little.

After a while she pushed away from him, snuffling.

'Sorry.' She slipped off her sandals and walked into the sea until she could bend down and wash her face in the water. Then she dried herself with her skirt. She turned and walked out of the water. 'Does it show?'

'No.'

'Harry, you're a horrible liar,' she said, shaking her head ruefully. 'You're no good at it at all.'

He shrugged. 'Sorry?'

A small huff of a laugh and she picked up her sandals and headed back towards the house.

'Potter.' Snape had appeared, apparently out of nowhere, like some pantomime demon king.

Harry attempted to reply normally. 'Yes, Professor?'

'Unless you are enamoured of the idea of your testicles, in a jar, on a shelf in my office, you would be well advised to keep your hands, not to mention the rest of your anatomy, away from my daughter.' Clearly taking Harry's stunned silence as some sort of agreement, Snape turned to follow Jane.

_No mention of last night anyway,_ thought Harry relieved and rather surprised to discover that he was still breathing. Although, of course, that didn't leave out the possibility of slow poison. _Tea,_ he thought, _perhaps toast._ Vaguely he wondered when terror had become normal enough to be boring.

In the kitchen he found Professor McGonagall. Snape was standing, perusing an extremely long piece of parchment. Upside down on its reverse he could read the words 'Contract of Employment.'

'Sit down, Harry. I've just made toast,' said Tonks.

'I shall afford it my consideration,' said Snape, rolling up the contract.

Harry sat down at the table with his back to the wall.

'Mr. Potter,' said McGonagall, turning away from Snape, 'we believe that we have found a way of gaining access to . . . to your Godfather's house. We will need to confirm a few more details, but you will probably be able to leave here tomorrow. Your friends are all most keen to see you. Good day, Severus,' she concluded and swept out.

Professor McGonagall's words, Harry realized, had come as something of a shock. He really wanted to see Ron and Hermione . . . and the rest of the Weasleys. And he certainly wouldn't miss Snape, but . . .

Jane set toast and butter in front of him. 'Did you want honey or jam?' she asked quietly.

Snape slammed a jar onto the table in front of him. Harry considered the ripe red strawberries on the label.

'Er, no. Butter's fine.'

_End of the holidays, _thought Harry rather sadly.


	7. Return to Grimmauld Place

The first time that Harry had watched Jane come stumbling out of the shallow water, arms folded across her breasts, wet hair slicked across her face and pale with cold, her resemblance to her father had come as something of a shock. Now he got up, shook the sand from her towel and handed it to her. 'Is that the last of the gillyweed?' he asked.

Jane nodded. 'Where's Tonks?'

'She went to make tea.'

'How long ago?'

'About ten minutes.'

'Don't hold your breath.' Jane didn't stop but continued over the wall and into the garden.

Harry lay back down on his towel and stretched in the sunlight. After Professor McGonagall's announcement that he would probably be leaving the following day, they had decided to make the most of their remaining day by spending it on the beach, although it now seemed that Tonks might have thought of something else to do. Harry smirked. A pity that he was probably never going to be able to tell anyone about last night, even with Voldemort out of the way.

Tonks had made them laugh that morning by telling them about the 'Snape Shakedown' and the misadventures of various of her colleagues in that particularly misguided pursuit. Jane had initially been furious that her farther had been subjected to Ministry harassment but had then been forced to smile. Harry had been reluctantly impressed by the ingenuity of Snape's retaliation as well as almost inclined to regret not setting the 'Monster Book of Monsters' on Dudley. The Dursleys had requested obliviation and Harry hadn't decided how he felt about that, although he was quite sure that he would be happy never to see Privet Drive again.

Delicately, barefoot, Jane teetered back over the wall with two cups of tea. She handed them to Harry, spread out her towel beside him and collapsed onto it. 'It's gone kind of quiet,' she said. 'No sign of them.'

'Ah,' muttered Harry noncommittally, handing her back her tea.

She took a sip and smirked. 'Tonks says he's a total horror as a teacher.'

'Yes.'

'Rather you than me then.'

'You don't regret not going to Hogwarts?'

'Thank you, no. I tried school. Almost a month of it. I just couldn't seem to stay out of trouble.'

Harry wasn't all that surprised. While he really liked Jane, his opinion with regard to her arrogance had not changed. Sometimes it quite simply did not seem to occur to her that she might be wrong. 'What happened?'

'Harry hunting for bigger kids.'

_What on earth could she have done to deserve that? _Harry asked himself. He decided to ask her.'Why?'

'It's about power, Harry, somebody else being worth less than your own amusement.'

Suddenly remembering the penseive and feeling utterly nauseated, Harry had to ask, 'what happened?'

'I ran away, hitchhiked to London, slept rough. By the time I ended up in the alleyway I didn't much care. I just wanted to be with my mother.' Her fingers closed about the talisman around her neck. 'That was when _he_ decided to get involved. I was just about ready to jump in the river and probably would have done. If something happens to him . . .'

'No. What happened at school?'

'Not important.' Abruptly Jane put her cup down and swayed to her feet. 'Come on Harry, you're going away tomorrow.' She ran down the beach and into the sea, disappearing in a bright splash.

Harry followed more slowly.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry had packed away his things the previous evening and now he had only to put his pyjamas away in his trunk. Lifting the lid precipitated a small cascade and, as he was replacing the various items that had escaped, he found something unexpected.

He considered the torus of lapis lazuli with its inscribed pentagram with mounting fury. She had simply decided to slip the talisman into his luggage, without telling him, when she needed it herself. _Right,_ he thoughtas he had headed down the stairs, _time for a little chat with miss Bossy Boots._

He found her in the kitchen. 'I won't take it,' he told her quietly, putting it down on the table, 'and you shouldn't have done that.'

'I'm sorry Harry. I can't take it back and even if I could I wouldn't. I'm not the one that bloody psycho's after: you are.' She was speaking like someone slowly and patiently explaining something to a young child. It was infuriating and Harry was already very angry.

'TAKE IT BACK!'

Jane crossed her arms. 'No.'

'I SAID, TAKE IT BACK!

She smirked and Harry lost it.

When Snape came in to find out what all the noise was about Harry had his hands on Jane's shoulders and was actually shaking her. Something flashed in her eyes and there was a sudden awful pain in his shin. As Harry's mind dealt with the fact that he had just been kicked, she took refuge beside her father. It was at this point that Harry fled the house.

Out on the beach, Harry sat on a rock, with his arms wrapped around his legs, shivering and trying to ignore the light but penetrating rain that swept in billows up the beach.

After a while he began to wonder how long he had been out there and at what point, if ever, it might be safe to go back in, when suddenly the subject of the argument, the 'Star' itself, hung twisting on its cord before his eyes and swinging slightly. 'Take it,' said Snape.

'No. Make her take it back.'

With a gesture, the Potions Professor parted the rain so that is splashed down around them. Harry was already so wet that it made little difference.

'I can't.' said Snape flatly. 'It doesn't work that way. You can only pass it on to someone else. Someone that you believe has greater need of it.'

Harry's head hunched down between his arms. 'I don't want her getting hurt.'

'Jane's wellbeing is important to you?'

'Yes!' snapped Harry, suddenly furious that Snape could be in any doubt.

'Then, that being so, the talisman will continue to protect her. Aside from which, should danger come to Jane from our world, have you considered that it is most likely to do so through you?'

Shame flooding through him, Harry swallowed and stared at the dangling pendant. 'And will that help? What about Miranda Norton and Regulus Black.'

'The 'Star of Grace' cannot stop death. As to Regulus Black, he was not given but stolen the stone and in doing so killed.' There was a long pause. 'He had discovered my . . . alteration of allegiance. After his death I discovered that certain things were missing from my stores. From the nature of the missing materials, I was forced to conclude that he had known that he was to be interrogated and guessing what was likely to be the manner of his death had taken matters into his own hands.'

'What did he take?' Harry felt sick.

'Potions to induce forgetfulness and to reduce pain.'

'Why would he do that?'

'Because he could not reconcile what he had been taught with what the Dark Lord demanded and with his own distaste for it. Because he wanted to atone for his failure, to his family and to the Dark Lord, as well as for murder and others acts committed in the Dark lord's service. He was not entirely rational but I was still his friend and he chose not to betray me. No one ever suspected that I had the stone.' Snape's voice had become very soft 'What Regulus Black wanted most of all was to do was the right thing. He could as easily have been sorted into Hufflepuff, had it not been for his need to prove to his family that he was better than the brother that rejected them. A fruitless ambition and the endeavour took him to a point where death could be the only way out.' Letting the stone fall onto the sand, Snape walked away.

'He took stuff to reduce pain?'

Snape had stopped. 'Yes.' Harry could not see his face.

'Effective?'

'Not very.' Snape continued back toward the house.

With the drizzle once again falling on him, Harry slid down off the rock and considered the talisman. Sirius Black's younger brother had chosen to die horribly rather than allow Voldemort to posses it. Instead he had given it to Snape and, as a consequence of that decision; it was now lying half embedded in the sand of a rain mazed Scottish beach. His: almost a sort of heirloom. He picked it up and water washed the sand away until the stone felt smooth beneath his fingers as he examined the pale gold caught within the blue and then he slipped the cord around his neck.

As he came in through the glass doors, Jane was waiting. 'I'm sorry,' he told her.

She unfolded her arms, stepped forward. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I couldn't give it to my father. Apparently it doesn't work that way. So I gave it to you. I . . . I just wanted you both to be safe.'

'You gave me the 'Star' in order to protect Professor Snape?' said Harry, astonished. 'Does he know that? Did you tell him?'

'Well, er . . . no. I thought you might have noticed Harry: he's not all that fond of you.' A tentatively conspiratorial smile was aimed at him. _Jane's weird sense of humour, _thought Harry. It was altogether too ridiculous. He began to laugh.

'Jane. Thank you.'

'Thank you Harry. I am so going to miss you.' Abruptly she hugged him.

After a moment Harry put his arms around her. 'He promised me my testicles in a jar if I didn't keep my hands off you.'

'What?' She pulled back, looking confused. 'How very Victorian of him. Harry, I don't feel that way. Call me a bit slow on the uptake, but I'm really not ready for that. I just want to be . . . me? Although I always did want a little brother. Oh shit.' She closed her eyes.

'Jane?'

She was blushing. 'It's not that you're not . . . '

'Jane. I wish you really were my sister.'

He watched a slow smile gain possession of her mouth and then she raised her face. 'Take care of yourself Harry. You and him both.' She hugged him again and then shuddered. 'You're absolutely soaked. Go and get changed. Honestly Harry, you'll be ill.'

_Be careful what you wish for _thought Harry, smiling to himself, as he went to get changed.

There was a knock and Jane came in with a plastic bag for his wet clothing. Harry repacked. As they started to carry the trunk down the stairs, Snape and Tonks came out of the bedroom opposite. 'Could you bring Harry's broom?' said Jane. Tonks smiled and went to do as she had been asked.

Under cover of the rain deflection charm, Harry's things were stowed in the car. 'Your wand, Mr. Potter,' said Snape, handing it to him.

'Thank you, sir.'

As Tonks and Harry drove away from the suddenly sunlit cottage Snape and Jane remained, with Jane waving until Harry lost sight of them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of hours driving brought them to a turnoff that took them, via a minor road, over a mountain pass. Near the top Tonks turned off onto a forestry track. A hundred yards further on, a figure among the trees resolved itself into Remus Lupin. Tonks stopped the car and Lupin got into the back seat.

'Hello Harry, Tonks.' Lupin was carrying a rolled up newspaper. 'Portkey, but this time we're taking take the whole car. How are you Harry?'

'I'm ok,' said Harry eying the newspaper with dismay. 'How does this work?

'We all hold onto the car and it comes too. Ready? One two three . . .' Gripping his seat with his right hand, Harry twisted around and touched the newspaper. The usual awful sensations followed and then the car rocked on its suspension. Opening his eyes Harry discovered that they were in a clearing, surrounded by members of the Order of the Phoenix carrying broomsticks. Harry got out of the car and greetings were exchanged briefly. He saw a flash of white as Hedwig flew past him. Someone had restored his familiar's form and she was clearly enjoying flying broad circles around them. Mad eye Moody thrust Harry's own broom into his hands and almost immediately most of the reception party were away, flying fast through the trees.

'This the Forbidden Forest?' yelled Harry.

'Yes. Not far.' Tonks suddenly rose above the trees. She gave an 'all clear' sign.

'Go,' screamed Moody and then they were out of the trees and streaking through the sky towards Hogwarts.

Hogwarts felt weird out of term time and Harry and Tonks moved fast through the empty corridors. 'Chocolate frog,' muttered Tonks and they were rising up the stairs to Professor Dumbledore's office.

'Hello Harry. It is good to see you looking so well. I trust that your accommodation agreed with you?' enquired Dumbledore rising from his seat.

'It was ok', replied Harry awkwardly. 'Actually it was better than ok.'

Good afternoon Mr. Potter,' said Professor McGonagall. 'I'm sorry that there isn't time for tea but the Ministry will be aware that you are here. We have to get you into Grimmauld Place. The house is subject to an entailment but, according to Magical law, those implicated in a death may not benefit from it through inheritance. This means that Andromeda Black is heir to Sirius' estate. As her daughter, the house should admit Nymphadora Tonks. Remus Lupin was Sirius' best friend and you are his godson. We believe that, if you all attempt to enter the house, at the same time, at least one of you should get in. Remus Lupin has apparated and is waiting outside the front door. Ms. Tonks will attempt to flue and you, Harry, will use the Portkey.' McGonagall held out the familiar kettle and Harry realised that Tonks had already left the room. 'Just count, one to three and be ready.' She put the kettle down on Dumbledore's desk.

Reluctantly, and for the second time in less than an hour, Harry prepared to Portkey. 'One, two, three . . .' He experienced the familiar jerk behind his navel, a whirling and then he was standing in the dim hallway of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

The first thing that struck him was an appalling stench with something of rotting fish in it but very, very much stronger and then he became aware of the silence. Looking around Harry quickly discovered the source of the smell. A deliquescent mass, wrapped in a rag and surrounded by what looked like a dried pool of blood, was all that was left of Kreacher, the Black family's house elf. Moving closer Harry saw two great puncture wounds through the elf's head and body, as though Kreacher had been bitten by an enormous snake.

There was a sound like dropped cutlery and Harry turned in time to see one of the snakes from the chandelier fall to the floor, a few seconds later there were three silver snakes scraping towards him across the dirty floor. A loud hammering commenced and, not taking his eyes from the snakes, Harry moved quickly to open the front door for Lupin but, as his hand touched the snake head handle, it twisted and sank its fangs into him. Harry jerked away and a silver snake body followed the head out of the door and wrapped itself around his wrist. The pain was sudden and shocking and Harry discovered that he could not detach the handle-snake. Neither could he now open the door. 'Professor Lupin, I've been bitten by the snake handle.' He heard Lupin curse outside and there was the sound of something impacting heavily and uselessly against the door. Suddenly dizzy, Harry sank to the ground and as his pursuers reached him he was unable to prevent them from biting him. Gasping with pain he could still hear, beneath the sound of his own breathing, a series of strange noises from the floor of the hallway, almost like someone picking through broken china, and he became aware that the tiles had become the tesserae of a mosaic, now changing colour to reveal the shape of a snake quite as large as the basilisk. He blinked and wiped away the sweat that had suddenly come to his face with his sleeve. As he watched, accompanied by peculiarly ceramic cracking and plinking sounds, the tiles began to move and the enormous snake to lift from out of the floor. Realising what had happened to Kreacher, and feeling as though his heart would stop at any moment, Harry stared up at the rather dusty looking reptile, its relentless chrysoberylian eyes.

'Intruder,' it hissed rearing back to strike.

'I'm not!'

The snake froze. 'A sspeaker of Parsseltongue are you?' The huge head descended to eye level, the long tongue flickering curiously inches from his face. 'Who are you child?'

It was hard to speak but he tried. 'I'm Sirius Black's godson.' Rainbow colours curved from the tongue and wrapped around him.

'And who iss the woman who iss in the kitchen?'

'Andromeda Black's daughter.'

'Andromeda iss not the heir.'

'Bellatrix killed Sirius and Narcissa helped Voldemort to lure him out of the house.'

'Iss that sso?' The snake appeared to be thinking. 'You are Harry Potter. He went to resscue you, did he not?'

'Yes,' whispered Harry, guilt and grief warring within him, 'he did'.

'Then I am ssorry.' The bizarre little noises resumed as the snake began to sink back into the floor. There was a crash and the front door flew open behind Harry. At the sight of the snake Lupin froze for a second and then fell to his knees beside Harry. 'Bitten by the door handle,' said Harry, raising his hand to show them but the snake had gone.

'Call Snape!' demanded Lupin. Harry looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt closing the door behind him.

'Tonks?' Harry tried to ask but Lupin was lifting him and carrying him into the library and then the walls around him lurched and fell away to darkness.

He awoke to burning pain in his arm and legs and opened his eyes. He was half sitting, half lying on a chaise-longue in the library. 'Harry? Snape's been called. I know you dislike him but he's good at what he does. Try to stay calm.' Lupin was doing a fair job of appearing calm himself, but this was Lupin and Harry realised that the former Defence against the Dark Arts Professor was terrified.

'Thirsty.' Harry's mouth felt unbelievably dry.

'I'm sorry.' Tonks' voice was gentle 'I don't think you should drink anything.'

He heard familiar footsteps in the hallway and Snape swept into the room, looking very much his usual term-time greasy self. Even so, such was Harry's relief to see the Potions Master that his eyes closed in humiliation.

'Can you really not stay out of trouble Potter?' Snape sounded bored, but his cool fingers were rapidly checking the wound in his hand and then his pulse. 'Open your eyes.' Harry discovered that even the low level of light was beginning to hurt.

'Can you do anything?' asked Lupin.

'Perhaps, but why would I be so foolish? In the event of the boy's death I would take the blame. Take him to Saint Mungo's.'

'Saint Mungo's would need to get in a specialist in poisons. You are one. How much time does he have?'

'Severus,' Dumbledore had arrived. 'Do what you can.'

Snape stood up slowly. 'And if he dies?'

'I do not believe that he will,' said Dumbledore, 'but I promise that you will not be worse off if you try.'

Snape's mouth tightened and Harry realised that however Dumbledore had meant it, Snape had perceived that statement as a threat. The Potions Professor reached into his robes and withdrew a small phial. 'Potter, what would I get if I added powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

_The Draught of Living Death _thought Harry.

'It should give me time to research an antidote.' Snape sat beside him and tipped the potion into his mouth: it bitter and very cold with a faint suggestion of raw onion. Harry swallowed and closed his eyes.


	8. For in Such Sleep What Dreams May Come?

_It's dark. _

_It is as dark as a foggy recreation ground on a late evening in November. He can hear the creak of swings although he can not see them. Beneath his bare feet is dirty sand. It's a bloody big sand pit though. He can't see the end of it. He starts to walk. After a while the creak of swings is gone and he can hear a soft susurration. A vague feeling of dread has been growing stronger for some time. This is not . . . _

_This is? _

_What?_

_Harry stops walking. Snape has given him the Draught of Living Death. He knows that he's dreaming but it doesn't help. 'For in such sleep what dreams might come?' he asks himself wryly. Whatever this nightmare is there will be no getting out or waking up. Not until . . . Not unless . . . Harry realises that he is entirely dependant upon Snape's good will. For the son of James Potter there can be no such thing and he does not remember being so afraid. The susurration is louder and he can see . . . almost see . . . things moving fast at the edge of his vision. And he has no wand. He puts his hand to his neck and finds the cord that holds the 'Star of Grace' and then his questing fingers find cool stone. Around him a pentacle of blue fire flares. Something hooded like a Dementor is coming closer and Harry moves backwards away from it. The thing is stopped by the encircling fire but it's not a Dementor he decides: Dementors don't walk. Harry can see no part of the figure under the enveloping cloth but he is sure enough to ask 'Who are you?'_

In his memory he is sitting on the terrace of Jane's cottage by the sea, Latin American music pounds out from the house and what had been a swaying to the music has becomes a whirling mad dance for Jane and Tonks down on the twilight lawn. As the music stops they come staggering up the steps together, supporting one another, laughing. 'Water', Tonks says, disappearing into the house.

Jane throws herself into a chair. 'Not joining in?' she asks Snape.

'With Maenads? Have you, perhaps, mistaken me for a Gryffindor?'

Jane pulls her feet up until her heels rest upon her seat, wraps her arms around her legs, tips back her head and laughs at the stars.

What he does not remember is that behind her someone, hands on the back of Jane's seat, is leaning forward to place a kiss upon her forehead, someone who is gazing at Jane with such affection that it is easy to guess who she is: Jane's mother, now dead for over a year. Is it Miranda who stands beyond the blue fire? Perhaps if he were to turn he would see his own parents, but behind him there is only_ blue fire and surrounding darkness._

'_Miranda?' asks Harry. _

_The shrouded figure holds out one hand toward him._

_He holds out his own hand and the figure takes it, steps into the pentacle and pulls back its hood._

'_Hello, Harry.'_

'_Hello, Miranda. Where are we? What is this place?'_

'_What do you see?'_

'_Apart from the bloody great sandpit?' Harry looks around again. 'Darkness.'_

'_A sandpit? Really?'_

_It occurs to Harry that perhaps she is not seeing the same things as he is. 'A desert.'_

_Her brow furrows. 'What does desert mean to you Harry?_

'_Absence of life. Emptiness. Why? Do you see something different?_

'_Words, numbers, equations all written in water . . . beautiful things that disappear as soon as I look at them: all the things I never understood. The things I didn't do.' She sounds wistful. 'This is a place of regrets and lost things.' _

'_Hell?'_

'_Some might call it that.'_

'_But I'm not dead.'_

'_No.' She smiles encouragingly. 'Nor are you being punished. It's more of a place for letting go.'_

'_Isn't there supposed to be a tunnel with a great light at the end of it?' asks Harry, rather facetiously. 'What about meeting the people I love who've died?'_

'_Your circumstances are rather unusual and you are going straight back.'_

_He is not entirely sure if he is pleased to hear this, but he remains curious. 'So what are you doing here?' She doesn't reply, waits for him to work it out. 'The "Star of Grace"?'_

'_Magical objects tend to absorb something of the people and things around them and Miranda had the stone a long time.'_

'_You're not Miranda?'_

'_No more than a portrait is the person it represents. The question is why are you here and why do you see what you do?' Her head tilts to one side. 'What would you most regret?'_

_Harry knows the answer to this one. 'Letting my friends die . . . letting Voldemort win.'_

_The answer is a sigh of satisfaction._

He was suddenly awake, half lying with a tight feeling in his stomach, with Snape holding him and Snape's fingers pinning his nose. Clumsily, he attempted to knock the hand away.

'Potter, you do not want your stomach contents entering your nasal passages.'

He was sick. Probably not for the first time. In the glass bowl into which he had just vomited he saw some sort of sluggish movementand was promptly sick again. He leant back and Snape supported him and wiped his face. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

'Wake up Potter!' Snape was forcing him to drink something disgusting. It tasted like that last time he was sick and it tasted still worse when it came back up. He went back to sleep as soon as he was able.

Aching all over he woke up. Snape was unwrapping a bandage, heavy with some thick liquid, from Harry's bitten leg. But for a sheet, he was entirely naked. Quite quickly Harry decided that he preferred Miranda's desert.

_He is standing barefoot on sand, blue fire around him, a cool wind blowing in his face. _

'_Back again Harry?' Her smile is mischievous. 'Well, what do you want?'_

'_What did you mean that my circumstances are rather unusual?' he demands._

'_Ah. You wanted to see your parents?' Harry nods. 'Look up.' Harry looks up and takes a sharp breath of surprise and wonder. 'What do you see?'_

'_Millions of stars, the branches of an enormous tree. It's beautiful.' _

'_What you are seeing has been called Yggdrasil, the world tree, the tree of knowledge and the tree of life. It doesn't really look like that: it doesn't "look" like anything at all, but you are trying to comprehend something immense with a mind that is only human. You could also see it as a net or a web of souls.' She is standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders. 'Listen.'_

_Harry can hear/not hear/remember something extraordinary and lovely but refuses to be distracted. 'So why can't I see my parents?'_

'_It's hard to explain but everyone who will ever be in heaven, for lack of a better word, is already there. You are already with your parents . . .'_

_This makes no sense to Harry and he has spotted a flaw. 'But if everyone who will be there is there, what about if I have children?_

'_If you have children they are there and they always will have been there. I'm sorry; I can't explain it any better. Can you explain quantum physics to a three year old? And it's nothing like that simple. The language, the concepts are simply lacking. You cannot see your parents because life is for exploration and change and it is fragile. Having survived Avada Kedavra the usual rules don't always apply to you. If you were to get too close to them, and thus to something I'll call your true self, you would simply get sucked in. Harry Potter would die.' _

'_How can you be so sure?'_

'_In order to truly live it is necessary for us to forget things. I however . . .'_

_Enthralled by the splendour of the sky, Harry watches as the web billows and twists like Aurora Borealis until another question occurs to him. He turns to face her. 'Miranda, are you real?'_

'_What do you mean by real?'_

'_Real, or just in my head?'_

_She is laughing and she looks so much like Jane. 'Who are you asking?' She reaches out to touch his face with gentle fingers. 'Harry, what is love? Real or just in your head?'_

He awoke and scrabbled for his glasses on the table beside the bed. He discovered that the bed had been brought into the library. Snape, looking deeply unhappy, was tending an unknown potion in the fireplace.

'What's that for?' asked Harry warily. There could be no question of who it was for.

'A potion to re-grow nerves.'

Harry had had 'Skelegro' to re-grow the bones in his arm after a Quiddich accident and the process had been painful. He could not feel his arm or either of his legs. _Not good_, thought Harry. 'This is going to hurt, right?'

Snape said nothing.

'Worse than Skelegro?'

'Yes.' His face was expressionless.

_Quite a lot worse then _thought Harry. 'Could you knock me out somehow, maybe cast stupefy?' he asked.

'Not if this potion is to work correctly.

Harry realised that Snape was speaking the truth and that he would simply have to accept it. He took a deep breath. 'If I make a noise, would you cast a silencing charm?'

'Not if, when,' said the Potions Master indifferently, 'but it is unlikely that you will remain conscious for long.'

Again he wanted to be sick. Snape ladled some of the potion into a goblet and came to place it on the small table beside the bed. He pulled Harry up and slipped an arm around his shoulders. As he held the potion to Harry's mouth there was nothing at all in his black eyes. With difficulty Harry choked down the contents of the goblet. His glasses were removed and he was allowed to lie down. He waited while pins and needles became cramp that became unspeakable agony. Knowing that the pain would not stop until the process was finished, somehow made it seem worse than Cruciatus. He was screaming and the pain was still getting worse. Harry desperately wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. Frantically he tried to climb off the bed but Snape forced him back down.

_Abruptly he is standing watching as the Potions Master lowers his unconscious self down onto the pillows. Breathing heavily, Snape checks Harry's pulse and then pulls back his eyelids and examines his pupils. For a long time Snape remains staring down at Harry. Finally he takes a deep breath and pulls his wand from his sleeve. A muttered word sends colours coruscating over Harry's body. Some sort of diagnostic process decides Harry. Apparently satisfied, Snape puts the wand away._

_When he leaves the room, Harry follows him, passing easily through the closed door._

_In the kitchen there is a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. While Snape is making his report, the muttering gets louder. 'You're enjoying this you bastard!' accuses Bill Weasley, quietly irate._

'_You think so?' Snape fixes him with a murderous glare. 'While I may torture adolescents in my professional capacity, if I considered this an engaging pastime do you honestly believe that I would be here?' Harry has seen Snape angry before but there is something new about this. 'Mr. Weasley, you are a 'Curse Breaker'. Describe your equipment.'_

_There is a sudden and prolonged silence. _

'_Well?'_

'_Dragon-hide gloves,' whispers Bill Weasley in realisation, suddenly looking ghastly. 'He wasn't wearing . . .'_

'_And if Mr. Potter had been wearing Dragon-hide gloves when he entered the house?'_

'_It was so bloody obvious I didn't think to mention it!'_

'_If Mr. Potter had been wearing Dragon- hide gloves when he entered the house he might not have been bitten?'_

'_Yes.'_

'_Then the fault is mine,' says Dumbledore softly._

'_And now, if you will excuse me, I have things to do.' Snape swings round and sweeps from the room. Dumbledore follows and catches him in the hallway. _

'_Severus?'_

'_Did you assume that because of the Prophecy he was safe from other things?' Snape's voice is shaking with anger as he rounds on the Headmaster. 'He's not and I have just had to feed nerve regeneration potion to a child. It is perhaps fortunate that it is unlikely ever to occur to him to blame you.' Snape stalks into the library, slamming the door behind him._

_As members of the Order of the Phoenix troop into the hallway of the house, something resembling the ghost of its guardian rises from the floor. 'Mr. Potter, iss there ssomething that I can I do for you?'_

_Harry gazes at the Snake which is coldly beautiful in the half dark, at its long flickering tongue. Perhaps there is something. 'Could you . . . persuade Mrs. Black to stop screaming?' _

'_Of coursse.' The snake doesn't seem to do anything but there is a scraping sound and a crash as the portrait of Mrs. Black hits the floor. Mrs. Black remains silent._

'_And the elf heads?' asks Harry._

_The elf heads that are mounted on the wall simply disappear. _

'_Thank you.'_

'_Iss that all?' The enormous snake is swaying gently as people walk through it to surround the fallen portrait. _

'_Yes,' says Harry. 'That really helps. Thank you.' _

He blinked. His arm and both legs were still tingling slightly with pins and needles but the relief from the pain that he had experienced was extraordinary. He took a deep breath, rolled onto his elbow and put on his glasses to find Snape sitting with his head on a desk, plainly asleep. 'Professor?' There was no response.

Harry was thirsty. He got to his feet, only slightly unsteadily. _Tea._ He was sure that there had been a time that he wasn't addicted to tea. Quietly he crept out of the room.

When he came back Snape was still asleep. 'Professor Snape?'

Snape's black eyes snapped open.

'I've made you some tea.'

Snape eyed the tea. 'What's in it? Scower's Magical Mess Remover?

'I'd never call you that sir.'

'What?'

Feeling suddenly dizzy, Harry put the tea down on the desk while Snape worked it out.

'Are you feeling alright Potter?'

'Strange dreams.' He was beginning to shiver. 'I . . .'

'Potter, if you injure the areas of your body that are recovering the damage is likely to be permanent.' Snape was beside him, his arm under Harry's shoulders, propelling him across the floor.

'I didn't know that. Is the treatment finished then?'

'Yes.'

Almost faint with relief, Harry was tipped into bed and the covers pulled over him. Then Snape brought him his tea and helped him to sit up, but as the cup was brought to his mouth the shaking became worse and he began to panic. Snape had fed Harry a number of unpleasant potions and he had swallowed them all without demur. Why then could he not drink a cup of tea that he had made himself? It made no sense at all but his throat felt blocked. He pushed the cup away sharply, spilling some of the contents.

Snape put the tea down and, his expression entirely unreadable, settled Harry onto his pillows. 'Strange dreams?'

'Dreams and . . . an out of body experience I think. Did you tear a strip off Bill Weasley and Professor Dumbledore over Dragon-hide gloves?'

There was a long pause and then 'Would you happen to know anything about Mrs Black's portrait and disappearing elf heads?'

'The snake, the house guardian . . . I spoke to it.'

'Did you, indeed? Harry closed his eyes. 'Well, sleep well Mr. Potter.'

He didn't fight it.

Daylight.

'Are you awake, Harry?'

Harry put on his glasses to find Remus Lupin leaning over him.

'Hello Professor.'

'Remus, Harry. I'm not your professor now.' Lupin looked dreadfully tired and pale.

Harry sat up. 'Are you ok Remus?'

Lupin smiled. 'Just a bit tired. I've been busy doing something for Professor Dumbledore. So, who's Jane?'

_Shit! _thought Harry. 'Family I was staying with,' he muttered.

'Is she pretty?'

Harry shrugged. 'She's really nice but I'm not supposed to talk about them. I must have been dreaming. What did I say?'

'Nothing much. Harry, how are you feeling?'

'Thirsty and I could do with a bath. What's happened to Snape?'

'Getting some sleep I hope. He's been behaving rather strangely lately, even for him.' Again Lupin smiled but it didn't seem to reach his eyes. 'Come on, let's get you upstairs.'

Lupin followed Harry up the stairs to the bathroom and started to run a bath. 'I can manage,' said Harry.

'Ok, Harry.' Lupin straightened. 'You're back in your old room. When you've finished your bath, go and get into bed. I'll bring you up some lunch.'

'Professor . . . Remus, perhaps you should try to get some sleep.'

'Thank you Harry but really I'm fine.' Lupin shambled off and Harry took his bath.

In the room, which he had shared with Ron, he found his things. He was sitting on the bed when Hedwig's feathery head was unexpectedly thrust into his face. He had never been head butted by his owl before, not like that, but apparently being a cat had rubbed off. Harry wondered how many of her other feline habits would persist. He stroked her and her response was a curious noise suggestive of a purr. Lupin came in with a tray with milk and sandwiches for two and Harry wolfed down half the sandwiches while Lupin was on his first one.

'Er . . . sorry.'

'It's good to see you eating Harry. We've all been very worried about you.' This time the smile made it to his eyes. 'Here, have another.'

Harry took another sandwich and ate it slowly. 'Remus, about Sirius . . .'

'Sirius.' Lupin's voice was fond. 'Because of you Sirius was not kissed by a Dementor, but instead died without pain, surrounded by his friends, fighting for something he believed in and to protect the people he loved. And he won.' He sighed. 'However much I shall miss him, there was always something of Peter Pan about Sirius Black and now he'll never have to grow up.'

'Peter Pan?'

'You know? Neverland,' he mused. 'How does it go? "Second star on the right and straight on until morning." He's with James and Lily now.' Lupin stood up. 'But I'm still here. I'm not your parents or your godfather but I'm still here Harry. If there's anything that you need . . . Anything at all, you will tell me?' He was holding himself very stiffly, just as Tonks had done when talking about Sirius. Harry remembered what it felt like to be held, and although he shied away from the idea of hugging his former Professor, he remembered Miranda's desert and he wondered how often people got close to the werewolf.

'Remus?' Harry got out of bed and laid one hand on Lupin's arm. There was something like shock in the man's eyes. 'Remus, thank you.' Remus stood frozen and Harry, overcome with embarrassment, was about to drop his arm when Lupin's strong hands were laid upon his shoulders.

'Harry.' There was warmth as well as weariness in Lupin's eyes. Apparently he had done the right thing after all. 'Get some sleep. The Weasleys will be here this evening and you'll need your strength.' He let go. 'Back into bed now!' As Harry obeyed, Lupin closed the shutters, folding the room into darkness, and picked up the tray. 'Sleep well, Harry.'

As he left the room there was no trace of his earlier shambling gait.


	9. Cookery and Violence

When Harry woke up it was to discover that Ron's things had arrived. It followed that the Weasleys and Hermione had probably arrived. He got up and dressed quickly. The upper levels of the house were quiet so he headed downstairs to find the place apparently deserted.

'Ron, Hermione . . . anyone.'

There was no reply Harry went back upstairs and called again, searching through empty rooms. A series of thumping, scraping sounds drew him to the bedroom that had once been Mrs. Black's, where he found Buckbeak apparently well and pleased to see him. Harry made a fuss of the Hippogriff and sat with him for a while before returning downstairs to wait. With the door to the hallway open he lay half dozing, on the chaise longue in the library, as the evening shadows grew darker.

Finally, in the vast silence of the empty house, he heard the front door open and close. 'You can't trust him.' Harry recognised the deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. 'You saw the reports from Azkaban. What was he hiding?'

'That he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, perhaps?' Tonks sounded annoyed.

'No. You know what they did to him and still he said nothing. Whatever he was hiding had to be a lot more important than that. He's protecting someone. The fact is someone owns Snape. You don't know who that person is and you cannot trust him. Stay away from him Tonks, he's bad news.'

'Dumbledore trusts him.'

'You know Dumbledore never saw those reports.'

'Didn't he?' Tonks spun to face Shacklebolt. 'Well perhaps you should tell him then. Better yet, show them to him. Show him what the "good guys" were doing to his spy while he was busy arranging to leave a baby with people who locked him in a cupboard.'

'Hello,' said Harry. Both Aurors immediately drew their wands.

'Sorry Harry,' said Tonks, relaxing. 'What are you doing in the dark? Where's Remus?'

'I don't know. No one's here.'

'He should've been back hours ago,' said Tonks worriedly.

'I'll go.' Shacklebolt opened the front door. 'Good to see you Harry. Tonks.' He closed the door behind him.

'Where is everyone?'

'Come on Harry, you can help me sort out supper.' Tonks placed a hand on his shoulder and led him towards the kitchen. 'Molly and George are being treated at Saint Mungo's. It's not serious but the Ministry were being awkward and asking all sorts of questions, so the Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys went to sort it out.'

'What happened?'

'They were about to leave the Burrow when it was attacked by Death Eaters. Molly decided to fight back and George had to forcibly drag her through the flue. Mostly cuts and bruises.' Tonks smiled briefly, 'Although the people who attacked the Burrow won't have got off so lightly. Arthur and the twins have been busy. Remus was supposed to come straight here. You shouldn't have been alone for more than a few minutes. I can only imagine that the Ministry's found some excuse to detain him. Well, when they do arrive they'll probably all be ravening so I thought Spaghetti Bolognaise. _Fiat lux!_' Tonks waved her wand and the gas lamps flared.

Harry followed her into the kitchen. 'This is my fault, isn't it?'

'Of course it's your fault. Nothing at all to do with the fact that the Weasley's have been fighting Tommy boy since before you were born. Don't be so full of yourself Harry.' She shook him gently. 'Lighten up. Chop onions. Any idea where they keep the garlic?'

Harry found a chopping board, a knife and some onions and started work. 'Have you seen Jane?'

'This morning. She's back in her university lodgings. She was worried about you but now she's fine.'

So what was that about Snape?'

There was a long pause as Tonks minutely dissected garlic cloves. Finally she dropped them into a pan with olive oil. Harry handed her the chopped onions which she added and stirred. 'After Voldemort fell Lucius Malfoy claimed to have done no wrong and, as he himself believed that, it didn't show as a lie. And he had money and influence and so he went free. Snape knew what he'd done was wrong and had neither money nor influence so he didn't. Severus has an acquired response to Veritaserum - shuts his body down. He couldn't very well be a spy otherwise. And then there's the Occlumency. Normal methods of interrogation weren't effective and people were missing. And some of them were children so Fudge authorised "implemented interrogation", although the usual euphemism is "Muggle methods." Actual physical damage. No unforgivables, just the sort of spells you might use in gardening . . . and then someone had the bright idea of leaving what was left in a cell with Dementors. Dementors like to touch . . .' She took a sharp breath. 'Sorry Harry. I really shouldn't have said that.'

Harry felt sick. 'And Dumbledore didn't know?'

'Apparently not. It was Lucius Malfoy who finally got him released.'

'What about Moody?'

'Not the particulars. Took him from Saint Mungo's back to Azkaban.'

'And Snape's still on our side?'

'Doesn't really have a choice, does he?' She snorted. 'Funny story. Snape's been secretly working against Voldemort for a while and he decides to try and make contact with the Order. So he hangs around the "Three Broomsticks" until one night there's a party. Minerva McGonagall's being chatted up by a famous Quiddich player. Then they head back to Hogwarts together. Just the two of them. He can't believe they're being so stupid so he decides to use "Imperius" to embarrass McGonagall's Quiddich Jock . . . just to send a message to Dumbledore to be more bloody careful. Except that McGonagall's little pal turns out to be Dumbledore himself using Polyjuice. Some sort of joke, apparently. Of course Dumbledore didn't use an unforgivable. He had only to say "Protego", turn it back on him and then force Snape to swear, by Hogwarts itself, to obey him. He's spent the last fourteen years as a little more than a slave.' Tonks pulled the pan off the heat. 'Don't get me wrong. Professor Dumbledore's a good man but some of the things he's done . . . weren't right.'

Harry thought about what he had been told. 'How come I didn't see Azkaban in the penseive? Surely that was worse than what my father did?'

You know enough of Occlumency to make your memories less accessible. The next stage is to bury some of them completely. Snape used the incident that you saw in the penseive to screen things from "You Know Who" and, under threat in Azkaban, he continued to use it. His memory of what happened by the lake is now inseparable from his memories of Azkaban and, unfortunately, your resemblance to your father acts as a trigger.

'I see,' said Harry, dismayed. 'No wonder he hates me.'

'He doesn't.'

'Right.'

'Harry, you're a good kid and he's not stupid, just seriously messed up.'

'And you're in love with him?'

'Yes. I am.'

Little more was said until they had finished cooking the dinner and it had been put to one side to stay warm.

'Have you visited Buckbeak?' asked Tonks.

'Yes. He seems fine, although if no one could get into the house . . . ?'

'Magical sleep until the house reopened. What I'd have been doing if you hadn't talked to the Guardian. You did well.'

Harry sat down at the table. 'I hate this house.'

'Don't. It wasn't always like this. And it's mine now.' Tonks sat down opposite him. 'Although with places like this that goes both ways. And the house itself is beautiful. It should be a happy place. Sirius wanted you to come and live here and I do too. And not just because the Guardian seems to like you. Once you start Auror training you'll be needing somewhere close. Promise me you'll think about it?

She thought he had a future then? Or was at least pretending to. Suddenly tired, Harry smiled at her and rested his head on his arms.

He awoke to find himself surrounded by Weasleys with Hermione shaking him gently. 'Wake up Harry.'

'Hello. Hermione, I'm sorry.'

'Whatever for?'

'It's my fault you're here.

'That's rot, Harry. I'm here because as well as being the best student that the school has seen in a long time I'm Muggleborn, which is, apparently, totally unacceptable to some people. At least that's what Professor McGonagall told my parents.' Hermione had gone pink with embarrassment. 'They'd been ready to go into hiding at the end of the summer anyway and they hadn't told me because they wanted me to enjoy the holidays without worrying.' She looked as though she might cry. 'I'd always thought them so suburban, I mean Dentists? I was so proud of them.'

Harry stood up. 'Hug?' he said plaintively and very much to his own surprise.

Hermione reached him first but Ginny still managed to get an arm between her and Harry. Ron put his arms around both of them leaving Harry in the middle of something he recalled from Primary School as a group hug. 'Damn, I missed you,' he said.

'Hey don't squash him.' Fred and George both reached over to ruffle his hair and, with some reluctance, the girls disentangled themselves. Ron pushed Harry down onto his chair.

'How are you feeling?' asked Ginny solicitously.

'I feel fine. A bit spaced but . . .'

'What's spaced?' Ron looked puzzled.

'Spaced out, disconnected, high. Muggle expression.' Hermione explained. Ron continued to look puzzled. 'Slightly drunk.'

'Oh. Right. So how were the muggles? I know you can't say much, but . . .' Ron tailed off.

'They were ok. I had a really good summer. I wish I could have written to you but the family went into hiding the last time Riddle decided to make a nuisance of himself and they're really cautious. But they're good people.' With Snape and Tonks Harry had discussed what he would say and he wasn't exactly lying, just not telling the whole truth and allowing them to reach the wrong conclusions.

'We wanted to send you a birthday cake,' said Ginny.

'I had a cake,' _briefly_ thought Harry, _before Tonks tripped over Hedwig,_ 'and presents.' He grinned. 'I am now the possessor of a seriously evil chess set.'

'A chess set?' demanded Ron, 'let's see it then.' Harry made to stand and was pushed back down onto his chair. 'I'll get it. In your trunk, right?'

'Right,' said Harry, equally glad to have something to diffuse a rather fraught situation. 'It's shrunken, just four squares on a box. It's sort of in the middle, near the top.' Ron disappeared.

'You look well dear.' Mrs. Weasley had discovered the Spaghetti Bolognaise and was adding pepper to it. Mr. Weasley gave Tonks an apologetic smile and settled into one of the chairs.

_Ginny must have been doing a lot of flying to get that brown,_ Harrythought. Brown or not, when she noticed him watching her, she blushed. He was glad when Ron returned and put the chess box down on the table in front of him. Harry reached out and, still slightly unsteady, tapped it not once but twice. As before the squares slid to form the chess board but then the whole thing flexed and then doubled in size. Curiously Harry tapped it again and again it doubled in size until its borders overhung the edges of the table.

'Whoa!' said Ron. 'What about the pieces?'

Without thinking Harry tapped the board._ 'Ludo,' _he said. Many of the pieces that appeared were now comfortably over a foot in height and Harry was better able to appreciate the Pawns predatory expressions. One of the White Rook dragons stretched its beautiful iridescent body and then took off and it was at this moment that the White Queen stole Harry's wand and leapt from the table.

Chaos broke out. Fred or George made a grab for one of the dragons and was stabbed in the hand by the lance of the neighbouring Knight who's Thestral then took off, turned in midair, and flew straight at his eyes causing him to duck sharply under the table. The Kings swiftly mounted dragons and joined the Knights in the air while the harp wielding women, that were the set's Bishops, began to sprout feathery wings from their backs and heels and to launch themselves over the edge of the table. A grab for one of them by the other twin resulted in fingers sliced by more than razor sharp harp strings. Hermione drew her wand _'Immob . . .' _She broke off as her wand was snatched by a flying dragon and a burst of flame forced Ginny to jump back. By this time all of the White pieces were off the table.

Ron looked incredulous. 'How d'you stop it Harry?'

'Sod off!'

'What?'

'Tap any part of it and say "Sod Off".'

'Oh. Ok. _Sod Off!'_

The Back Queen smirked. 'The chess set is not yours,' she informed him sweetly. As Ron reached out, a selection of none too miniature weaponry was displayed by the Black Pawns surrounding her. Ron hurriedly pulled back his hand and gave Harry his wand.

'Alas,' murmured the Black Queen in tones strongly reminiscent of McGonagall, 'the wand is not yours.'

'What?' He ducked just in time to avoid a flying Knight. The pretty pennanted lances that they carried now looked decidedly lethal. A burst of flame bounced off a pan lid that Ron had raised as a shield and across a row of cauldrons before petering out among the vegetables and Harry yelled in surprise as his ankles came under attack from the cheerfully vicious Pawns that had driven George or possibly Fred back out from under the table.

Then they started singing. To Harry it sounded like Welsh. It was altogether too much for Mrs. Weasley.

'Out!' she yelled. 'I'll deal with it.' Without hesitation Mr. Weasley seized his two youngest children and dragged them, too surprised to protest, out of the kitchen. The twins followed meekly as did Hermione and, rather to Harry's surprise, Tonks. 'Go dear,' said Mrs. Weasley, kindly.

'They're open to negotiation, apparently.'

'Thank you Harry.' She smiled at him pointedly and, with great reluctance, Harry left the kitchen. The door was shut behind him.

'Extendible ears!' yelled Fred (or possibly George) running up the stairs.

'She'll have cast _"imperturbable"_, don't waste your time,' said Ginny.

Just then the front door opened and Remus Lupin and Kingsly Shacklebolt came in. 'Whatever's going on?' asked Lupin.

'Harry's got this bloody brilliant chess set,' replied Ron and began to tell them about it but Harry had had enough.

_My chess set: my problem,_ he decided. Quietly he crept back into the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley facing down the recalcitrant chessmen, most of whom were now back on the table.

'She sez ye've a bluddy great snake and'll have it eat us,' said one of the Black Pawns anxiously.

'What . . . no,' said Harry.

'Ye've no a snake or ye'd no have it eat us?'

'Well, I suppose that it would if I asked but . . . well, no, not if you'll stop damaging my friends.

'We are prepared to discuss the matter,' stated the White Queen.

'Let me Aurelia,' said the Black Queen coming forward. She really did resemble a younger McGonagall, Harry decided. 'We are bored with being in the box. We want to get out more.'

'I'm not surprised you don't get out if you behave as badly as that,' said Mrs. Weasley.

'And I was warned that you tend to acquire things,' said Harry.

'Which you will find in the box should you care to look there,' replied the Black Queen, 'except for anything alcoholic of course. We are prepared to give an undertaking of good behaviour. Moreover, we are prepared to be helpful.'

'Helpful? How?' asked Harry.

'We'll get yer dinner back from yon bluddy bird,' put in the talkative pawn.

'What?' Sure enough Hedwig was perched on top of a cupboard busily rending a large and rather bloody piece of raw meat that was dripping down the cupboard onto the floor.

The Knights rose into the air.

Still clutching the meat, Hedwig launched herself towards the door. The White Queen immediately hit the end of Harry's wand against the table causing a stream of sparks to shoot out of it. As Hedwig flew through them an outraged squawk became a howl and, twisting in midair, Hedwig once again became a cat. As the meat bounced away across the floor, Hedwig landed on the table in front of her attacker and extended a ferocious set of claws. 'You might wish to consider that you have a fine fur coat and I do not,' said the White Queen pointedly. The very tip of Hedwig's tail flicked and then she put the claws away, jumped off the table, grabbed the disputed dinner and then streaked out through the door with most of the chess set in hot pursuit.

'We understand that you have a problem with Doxies,' suggested the Black Queen. 'We could deal with it for you.'

'Not to mention mice,' said the White Queen in tones calculated to aggravate the most careless of housekeepers. 'Do you ever clean under the cupboards?' She flicked at her sleeve.

'Aurelia, dear, you're not helping,' said the Black Queen. 'Give him back his wand.' The White Queen pulled a face but did as she was told. 'And the other one.' Hermione's wand was laid at her feet by a rather sheepish looking dragon.

'A gesture of good faith,' said the Black Queen. 'I am Ayesha. That's Tom' The White king who, Harry noticed, bore more than a passing resemblance to Tom Riddle, waved. 'And this is Brian.' She patted the Black King on the shoulder. 'Parthenope, Leucosia, Ligia and Loralei,' she indicated the harpists who stopped gossiping amongst themselves to wave coyly. The Black Queen sighed and then continued. 'The boys are Mathew, Mark, Luke and John. They do, admittedly, have a bit of a Grail fixation but they are quite splendid at retrieving things.'

There was a cheer as a rabble of pawns dragged something entirely disgusting into the kitchen. Hedwig had lost her fight to retain the stolen meat. Rather dubiously, Mrs. Weasley picked it up and put it by the sink. 'Would they do housework?' she asked the Queens.

'You would be surprised at what they are prepared to do for beer,' replied the Black Queen, 'or quite possibly appalled.'

'Why wouldn't Ron's wand have worked?' asked Harry.

'Oh it would have. I merely implied that it wouldn't.'

'You tricked me?'

'Well, yes. But we could start with the kitchen, tonight, if you wish?'

'Perhaps,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Harry, would you put the set away for now?'

'Sod off.' Harry tapped the board, the pieces disappeared and the board shrank and folded itself into its innocuous looking box.

'And perhaps not,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'I suppose that you got that from Dumbledore? That Black Queen is clearly supposed to be Professor McGonagall, and as for the White King, well, I had thought better of the Headmaster. I know he regrets allowing Umbridge . . . but even so.' She picked up the Spaghetti Bolognaise that he and Tonks had made, now spiced to her own satisfaction, and put it on the table as Ron and Ginny handed round plates and cutlery. 'Good grief, I hope that it didn't behave like that in front of the Muggles? What would they have thought?'

'I was just shown how it worked,' said Harry. There was no way for him to explain that Dumbledore had not given it to him. Supposedly he had been staying with a Squibs and Muggles and why would they have given him such a thing?' It looked as though Mrs. Weasley would be having another "little chat" with the Headmaster.

_Snape_ thought Harry _trust Snape to give me this pocket Pandemonium._ It wasn't as if he hadn't been warned. Since Azkaban, dozens of Aurors had tried to give the slippery bastard a hard time and had come seriously unstuck. He was suddenly inclined to feel just a little bit sorry for Professor Dumbledore as well as almost proud of the appalling chess set. If he could just get them on his side . . .


	10. Persuasion

'Harry Potter.'

Someone wanted to speak to him . . . and something rather strange was going on. Harry opened his eyes.

'Misster Potter.' An enormous snake was inches from his face. Harry leapt back in his bed colliding with the wall. _The Guardian_ he realised. As he reached for his glasses he discovered that he was already wearing them. But there they were on the bedside table. And there he was in the bed, apparently sleeping. _Astral Projection_ thought Harry, alarmed. Both selves looked real to him although he could see through the snake. That didn't make it any less terrifying.

'Er . . . hello.'

'Harry Potter your chesss sset iss "tidying" in the kitchen. They claim to have permisssion.'

'Right. Well they offered. What are they doing exactly?'

'Cleaning.'

'Ok.' Harry glanced down at his body on the bed. It was disturbing.

'I wissh you to confirm that Nymphadora Black doess not object.'

'Tonks.' The snake regarded Harry without comment. 'Well, Nymphadora didn't object, but I can check with her if you like.'

'Pleasse do. Goodnight Harry Potter.'

'Goodnight.' Harry took a deep if entirely unnecessary breath. 'Do you have a name?'

'I am Nero.'

'Goodnight Nero.'

As the enormous reptile slid under Harry's bed, as though through the entrance to a tunnel, Harry lay down in his body. As everything became dark and blurry he realised that things were back to normal. He put on his glasses and peered under the bed to find only his shoes and dust bunnies.

Harry went back to sleep.

In the morning the kitchen was immaculate. The light that came in from the sparkling windows was reflected from shining pans onto the startlingly white walls and ceiling.

'Good morning Tonks,' said Harry. He gestured at the brightness. 'The Guardian wanted me to check that you didn't mind the chess set cleaning up.'

'Absolutely not. If you don't feel too tired that is.' Harry must have looked puzzled. 'Chess sets have a small amount of their own magic but get the rest from the players. It's not usually noticeable but this must have taken rather more. How do you feel?'

'I'm fine. I didn't notice.'

Tonks looked him carefully up and down and then grinned. 'Better have breakfast then. We're going shopping.'

'We?'

'Fudge thinks it would be a good idea to have "The Prophet" print pictures of you lot buying your school stuff.'

' . . . Fudge!' Harry very obviously didn't say what he thought of that.

'Hey, it's a day out. Make the most of it. If he shows up I'll see I can accidentally drop something on him. Come on! Breakfast. I got in some cereals but the twins have had most of them.' She handed him a rather battered box of cornflakes. 'Guard that with your life.'

Harry hated portkeys and frequent usage wasn't changing his opinion of them. As he stood, rather queasily, in one of the rooms of the 'Leaky Cauldron' he decided to learn to apparate at the first opportunity. Checking that he still had his wand and invisibility cloak he followed the others down the stairs.

The first port of call was Gringotts Bank where Harry discovered that, while the Goblins did not usually issue cheque books to underage wizards, for Harry Potter they were prepared to make an exception. He was also warned against the consequences of attempting to write cheques for amounts higher than those contained in his vault. Magical cheques did not so much bounce as bite. He then used a cheque to withdraw three hundred Galleons. When, mindful of the Dursley's continual carping about the cost of keeping him, he had tried to find some way of paying Jane she had informed him that Miranda had been very well insured. She had suggested that he could instead buy her something from Diagon Ally. While he wouldn't need anything like that amount, Harry had decided that he disliked being without money.

Outside Gringotts they were ambushed by the Press. Mrs. Weasley put her arm around Harry. 'Best get this over with,' she said. 'Oh dear. I was supposed to give you this earlier. She handed him a letter with the Hogwarts Crest on it. 'Recommendations regarding choice of subjects for NEWTS.' As Harry was jostled down Diagon Ally he considered his options.

_Recommended: Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration. Optional: . . ._ He could do the subjects that Professor McGonagall had recommended to pursue his ambition of becoming and Auror.

'What are you doing?' he asked Ron.

Ron looked panicked. 'I don't know. What are you doing Harry?'

Harry handed over the letter. 'McGonagall recommended those for becoming an Auror.'

Ron scanned the letter. 'Yeah, right, I'll do that then. Except Potions.

'Snape's not teaching Potions.'

'How d'you know? Oh, right. Too much to hope the bastard's been sacked?'

'He hasn't been sacked.'

'Dark Arts?'

Harry nodded and Ron began to mutter something that, could he have heard it, would probably have been extremely rude.

Despite the attention of photographers they managed to find and pay for books and other equipment and arrange for their purchases to be delivered to the "Leaky Cauldron". Harry had withstood this with as much grace as he could muster but was rapidly coming to the end of his temper. 'Ron,' he murmured, showing him his cloak, 'I'm just going to slip out of here. With any luck they'll sod off and I'll meet you in Fortescues.' Ron nodded and Harry slipped behind some shelves to emerge invisibly from the other end.

Back in the Ally Harry leaned against a the warm brick of a sunlit wall and drew breath. Then he simply stood and watched the people in the Ally. They all seemed unusually watchful and quiet. Worried. _Voldemort, _thought Harry. Strange that one obsessed wizard could cast such a long dark shadow. In the shadows at the corner of Knockturn Ally Harry suddenly recognised someone he knew. His face was partly turned away and his blond hair hidden by the hood of his cloak but it was definitely Malfoy who was standing considering the broom in his hand. Finally he seemed to reach a decision and made off down Knockturn Ally. Harry followed him.

Malfoy didn't have to go far into the ally. The shop he entered had three brass balls over the door and the door itself was propped open. Silently Harry followed Malfoy in.

'How much?' said Malfoy putting the broom on the counter.

'Hundred,' said the shopkeeper not glancing at it.

'What? It worth far more . . .'

'It's worth a hundred to me. Take it or leave it.'

Malfoy picked up the broom and strode out of the shop only to stop in the middle of Knockturn Ally and stand plainly lost in indecision. Slowly, reluctantly he turned. Ron had talked about the confiscation of the Malfoy estate but Harry had not thought that the Ministry would go this far. Was it possible that Malfoy needed the money badly enough to sell his Firebolt? Without thinking about it Harry slipped off his invisibility cloak. 'Malfoy.'

Malfoy spun round wand at the ready. Harry simply stood and looked at him. 'What's this about?' he asked quietly.

'As if you don't know? Where's the Weasel? He'd enjoy this.' Malfoy's face was ugly with anger.

'Yes. He probably would,' agreed Harry. How much do you need?'

'What?'

'Is a hundred enough?'

'Why would you give me a hundred Galleons?' demanded Malfoy.

'Not give. Lend. I'll lend you a hundred Galleons if you'll listen to me.'

'Two hundred.'

'Ok.'

'Paid back when?'

'When you can.'

'Right.' Malfoy swung the broom over his shoulder. 'I'm listening.'

'Not here. Florean Fortescues. Come on. I'll buy you an ice cream.'

Harry turned to walk away and then Malfoy's hand was on his arm. 'Give me the money now.'

Harry reached into his cloak and pulled out two bags of gold. 'How do I know you'll . . .?'

'Of course I'll come with you. I want to know what could be worth two hundred Galleons to you.' He took the bags and checked the contents and then regarded Harry suspiciously.

'You can have a cheque if you prefer,' said Harry.

Malfoy stowed the gold inside his cloak. Feeling extremely visible, Harry walked with his enemy to ice cream parlour.

They found Ron and Hermione deep in conversation on the semicircular seat of a corner booth. Seeing Malfoy, Ron got up with an unpleasant expression on his face. 'Sit down,' said Harry. 'I asked him to come here.'

A week ago there would have been an argument but after Harry's near death Ron, however reluctantly, sat down. 'Who's having what?' asked Harry evenly.

'Lime and Pistachio,' sneered Malfoy.

'Cherry and Orange,' snapped Ron.

Hermione shook her head at them. 'Vanilla please, Harry.'

'And Chocolate and Peppermint please,' said Harry. He paid for the ice-cream and went to sit next to Hermione. This left him opposite Malfoy who stared at him challengingly until the ice cream was brought to the table.

'And a jug of water please,' said Malfoy. The water arrived and, still watching Harry, Malfoy poured a glass and drank it. Then he started to eat his ice cream. 'Well?'

Harry had been wondering what he could say.

What he needed was to do was persuade Malfoy to stay out of it. Not to oppose him. Not to join Voldemort. Harry took a spoonful of his ice cream. Finally he lifted his fringe away from the lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

'This connects me to the person I got it from,' he said. 'Mentally. Sometimes I'm in his head. I see what he's seeing. Hear what he hears.' Malfoy had stopped eating his ice cream and was staring at him in horror. 'The thing is,' Harry continued, 'I'm not him. And I will never be as dangerous to you as he is. I've seen him punish his followers for failure. I've seen Bellatrix on the ground begging, grovelling for mercy. Malfoy, you're a Slytherin. I am sure that you understand the difference between actual power and the appearance of power. The Death Eaters are no more than tools. They're marked like animals. If you want to be your own master you'll stay away from him.'

There was a long silence while Malfoy stared. 'And when the Dark Lord has won?'

'If he did win I don't think it would make any difference what you'd done for him. He may promise rewards but what has he delivered so far? Support him and it's the same whatever happens. If he wins, you lose. If he loses, you lose.'

'And I should support you?'

'You should stay out of it. That's all I ask.' Harry met Malfoy's grey eyes. 'When this is over I want to be able to sleep. I don't want to have to kill you.'

Malfoy had gone white, as had Ron. Harry could feel the tension in Hermione beside him. 'There's something else. What happened on the train. We went too far. I apologise.'

'Is that it?' asked Malfoy very quietly.

'Please think about it.'

Malfoy got up, picked up his broom and was walking toward the door when two men in the robes of Magical Law Enforcement Officers came in. Malfoy moved aside as they sauntered over to Harry's table. 'Mr. Potter, you are to come with us.'

'Why?' asked Harry.

'The Minister wants to see you.' The man sounded bored.

'I don't want to see him,' said Harry. Immediately both Officers drew their wands. As he was dragged to his feet by the nearer Officer, Harry seized the water jug and swung it into the man's crotch causing him to collapse. Harry then grabbed the other Officer's wand at the same time kicking his shin as hard as he could with the industrial boots that Jane had bought. As the kicked officer hopped backwards Hermione bent down and picked up the first Officer's dropped wand. It was all over in seconds. Then they left the ice cream parlour, closely followed by Malfoy.

'Potter, what was that about?'

Harry stopped and turned to face Malfoy. 'That was about me getting fed up with people pushing me around and trying to kill me.'

'But they were . . .'

'Were they? What right had they to demand that I went with them? And then to try to drag me out? Stuff 'em.'

'Right,' said Malfoy. 'I think I'll just be on my way. He took three steps down the Ally and then turned and came back. 'Potter, should Nymphadora _Black _die, I inherit. You might want to warn her to watch out.' He strode away down the Ally.

'Well that was weird,' said Hermione.

'Do we have everything we need?' asked Harry.

'I need . . . Not important,' said Ron. 'Let's get back to the "Cauldron".

Back in the room at the "Leaky Cauldron" Ron closed the door behind him and leant on it. 'Are you going to tell us what this is about?'

'Not here,' said Harry.

There was a light tapping at the door. Ron opened it and Tonks came in wearing her "Old Lady" disguise. 'Nicely done, Harry, she breathed. 'Nothing like beating up the "Guardians of Law and Order".'

Harry handed her the wand he had taken from the MLE Officer as did Hermione.

'Should I have gone with them?' asked Harry.

'Probably not.' She shook her head in exasperation. 'I'll go and give those idiots their wands back and suggest that too much of a fuss would make them look foolish. Don't leave this room.'

They waited until Mrs. Weasley and Ginny arrived back from Madame Malkins and then portkeyed to Grimmauld place. Once there Harry, Ron and Hermione headed upstairs to Harry's room. As Harry was about to shut the door Ginny pushed past him and sat down on Ron's bed. She stared up at him defiantly. Harry had felt bad enough about deceiving them about where he had spent most of the summer. This was just one more thing. One thing too many. As he sank down onto his bed, Harry decided that he would risk telling them. 'The Prophecy,' he said tiredly. 'I've got to kill Voldemort or die trying.'

The silence was deafening. Harry looked up to see only concern in his friends' eyes. 'Oh Harry,' murmured Hermione.

'That's why you were talking to Malfoy?' Ron was thinking it through. 'What exactly did the Prophecy say?'

'_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . .' _The words were engraved in Harry's memory. 'It could have been Neville but I'm the one who was marked.' He rubbed at the scar. 'This doesn't go beyond the three of you. Ok?'

There was agreement. 'What sort of power the Dark Lord knows not?' asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know. I don't even know if it's true. Trouble is, Voldemort knows the first bit and he believes it. He's not going to give up.' He lay down and closed his eyes.

'Bloody hell,' said Ron.


	11. Something new

Snape was standing by one of the tall library windows, looking out. He turned as Harry shut the door behind him.

'Good evening Mr. Potter.' The new Defence against the Dark arts professor moved to lay his hand on the chair to one side of a massive desk that occupied the shadows to one side of the window. With his wand he indicated the chair on the opposite side.

'Good evening, Professor.' With some trepidation Harry came forward and sat down. He deliberately ignored the penseive on the desk.

'Mr. Potter, you mentioned "strange dreams". Were these under the influence of the Draught of Living Death?' Harry nodded. 'Then I've to ask you to allow me to view them in the penseive. Also what you described as "an out of body experience". Take a few moments to order your thoughts and then recall your memories in the order in which they occurred.' While Harry didn't like it at all, he supposed that there was a good reason for this and simply nodded.

'Ready?' demanded Snape. Harry nodded again and Snape came around the desk to lay his wand against Harry's forehead. Harry closed his eyes and experienced a slightly uncomfortable mental twinge as the first of his Draught of Living Death memories unreeled. He could feel himself swaying and Snape allowed him a few moments to steady himself.

'Ready?' Again Harry closed his eyes. The second time was worse.

'Ready?'

'Yes.' The last memory was extracted. It felt like the morning after the night that he had drank too much wine.

'That's all.' Harry said, trying not to shiver as he opened his eyes and looked up at Snape.

Then he looked away. Snape's proximity was unnerving and Harry concentrated on clearing his mind. When he turned back there was no sign of the professor. Harry stood up and looked into the penseive to see himself standing in a pentacle of blue fire with Miranda and Snape standing beside him. While Harry's direct memories were now contained in the penseive, he had thought about these events so often that there were enough reflections of the original information for him to understand what he was seeing. As he watched the scene blurred for a moment and then cleared into the second of Harry's memories.

Suddenly Snape looked up, an expression of dawning wonder on his face. _He's seeing the Web of Souls,_ thought Harry. Unobserved, he considered the saturnine professor. Seen like this he looked very different from the austere, abrasive man that Harry knew from class. Perhaps this is what Tonks had meant when she . . . Harry shook his head. He did _not _want to think about that particular incident.

Another blurring and again the scene changed. Harry watched the aftermath of the administration of nerve regeneration potion. He saw again, with surprise, Snape's fury with Dumbledore. Surely the bastard could not be squeamish? That was a bloody silly idea. Harry got up and went to the window. Outside, ten yards or a million miles away, lay an ordinary Muggle evening where ordinary people lived and loved and went about their business totally unaware of this other life, now threatened by Voldemort. It occurred to Harry suddenly that this too could change. Voldemort would be unlikely to stop at the magical world. He shivered.

'Sit down Mr. Potter.' Snape was back. Harry returned to his seat and sat down. 'I shall now return your memories to you. Close your eyes. This is likely to be disorientating.'

It was. Harry wondered if was going to be sick.

When he opened his eyes it was to see Snape standing on the opposite side of the desk, wand in hand. 'And now, if you are ready for your lesson Mr. Potter?' he enquired softly.

Harry got up and faced him and then all of the horror of his experience of the nerve regeneration potion suddenly hit him. Rather distantly he realised that he was beginning to shake, and remembering his earlier success at Occlumency, Harry tried hard to free himself of emotion. He visualised the beach beside Jane's cottage, the light on the water, the feeling of sand in his toes, the sound of water on shingle and smell of the tidal zone and then . . .

Harry was standing on the beach. He spun around in shock. Over in the west the sun was on its way down the sky but the evening was not yet cold and Harry laughed with pleasure. He had actually apparated. He stood and scratched his head in bemusement and looked around again and that was when he realised that he had no shadow.

'Oh shit,' murmured Harry. Whatever he had done, it clearly wasn't apparition.

Several steps revealed that he was leaving no footprints in the sand. Cautiously he rested his fingers on and then into the wall. Then he climbed over the broken section into the garden. _The grass is getting long again, _thought Harry, his sense of unease growing stronger and stronger. When he had been very small he had managed to get lost and that was what this felt like. He closed his eyes and thought about the library at Grimmauld Place, but when he opened them the sun was still setting over the quiet garden. He wandered up to the terrace and then through the closed glass doors into the deserted house. He missed Jane.

_Miranda_ thought Harry. Harry's fingers touched the talisman; he closed his eyes and remembered the warmth of her voice. 'Miranda?' There was no reply but even so he felt comforted. Harry sat down on one of the shabby sofas.

After a while he still had not managed to come up with any ideas on how to resolve his predicament. Walking back, he felt, was out. He was hundreds of miles from London and he didn't think remaining like this for too long would be good. He was beginning to feel cold and, with a shock, realised that he was not breathing. Deliberately taking unnecessary breaths he decided to deal with the cold. _'Incendio!'_ The fire that had been made up in the hearth should have caught but didn't. Harry tried again with no more success and then discovered that he had forgotten to breathe again.

_How did I do it? _Harry asked himself. How did I clear my mind? He had accepted that he was angry. Now he accepted that he was afraid. The rational part of his mind looked around for some idea of what to do next. If his memories of the cottage had brought his here, could not other memories take him to other places?

_Hogwarts! _ He closed his eyes and imagined himself in the Gryffindor common room; he remembered the oddly echoing feel of the place and the warm and dusty smell of the tapestries until he could believe that he was actually there. Finally he opened his eyes to find the sun slanting through windows onto red and gold. Straight away he was out into the corridor, on his way to Dumbledore's office. As he reached the stairs he realised that he was no longer running but simply moving at a running speed. He moved faster, on and then straight up through the stone of the turning staircase. Harry discovered that the office had been tidied but there was no sign of its owner. Fawkes regarded him solemnly. _Portkey_ thought Harry frantically before his mind finally processed what it had seen.

'Fawkes?' As Harry approached the phoenix, red and golden wings stretched and flashed. 'Fawkes, will you take me to Grimmauld Place?' The bird ducked its head and Harry reached out to touch splendid feathers.

There was a sudden burst of flame around him and he was standing in the hallway of Grimmauld place. Although no longer feeling so painfully cold, Harry wanted to get back into himself. He found his body on the floor of the library with Dumbledore and Snape on the ground beside him, both looking more worried than he had thought possible. He lay down into his body and drew a deep breath.

'Potter!' When Harry opened his eyes it was to discover Snape crouched over him and looking as though he might strangle him.

'Sorry sir. I was at the cottage and then Hogwarts, it took me some time to get back. Fawkes brought me here. He's in the hallway.' Harry tried to get up and managed it with Snape's assistance as Dumbledore opened the door to admit the phoenix which flew in and settled on a chair-back.

Snape lowered Harry into one of the library chairs and then, his hands on the arms of the chair, bent over him. 'Mr. Potter, we are waiting for an explanation.'

Harry glanced into Snape's black eyes and then looked away. 'Right sir.' He was feeling distinctly shaky. 'Do you think I could have a cup of tea?' Snape stood up and Dumbledore put a cup of tea into Harry's hands. Harry sipped it gratefully. The Headmaster then offered a bag of sherbet lemons. Harry took one, crunched and swallowed it. Dumbledore gave him another that he sucked between sips of tea. After a while Harry looked up to discover Dumbledore and Snape were now sitting opposite him looking very thoughtful, Dumbledore at such an angle that he was watching Snape rather than Harry.

'Harry, what happened?' asked the Headmaster.

Still sipping his tea, Harry told them.

'You called this _"Astral Projection"._ Where did you come across the term?' asked Snape.

'In a muggle book. I'm sorry; I don't know the proper name for it. I haven't come across yet it at school.'

'Nor have I,' said Dumbledore, apparently amused. 'What you did is unheard of.'

'If wizards want to go somewhere they apparate,' said Snape. 'They do not wander around the countryside in quite so much less than their underwear.'

'You see, Severus, murmured Dumbledore. This is certainly a "power the Dark Lord knows not."

'Or just coincidence," put in Harry.

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged looks. Harry concentrated on his tea.

'A few days ago you spoke to Mr. Malfoy,' murmured Snape.

'Yes'

'And you lent him two hundred galleons without so much as asking him what he needed the money for.'

'If I had asked he might not have taken it.' Snape's cool regard did not falter. 'He must have been desperate if he was prepared to sell his Firebolt, let alone for so much less than it was worth.'

'Guilt, Mr, Potter?'

'A bit, but mostly it's just that I really don't need any more enemies. I thought that if I could just get him to stay out of it . . . I told him about what I'd seen through my link with . . . him. About Bellatrix grovelling for mercy on the ground in front of him. I lent him the money because I hoped that he'd listen to me and actually think about what I'd said.'

More silence followed.

'Look, sir. Hermione called it a "self fulfilling prophecy". It doesn't really matter what I think as long as Vol . . . as long as_ he_ believes in it. I don't have to be very special to die. I don't -' Harry glanced at Dumbledore who still looking away but very obviously paying attention. 'I don't know if I can stop him. All I can do is try.' Harry rubbed at the scar on his forehead, 'But I have to do it in such a way that, if I fail, my death is really not all that important. And I'm really not at all sure how to begin, although I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have gone on Fudge's photo-opportunity.' Harry discovered that he was now rubbing at the "I must not tell lies" cut into his hand by Umbridge's quill and put his hand back around his cup. 'And perhaps I shouldn't have fought back against the Magical Law Enforcement Officers,' he admitted. 'It's just that, right now, the Ministry scares me.'

Yet again there was silence. Dumbledore continued to sit watching Snape who sat watching Harry with his chin resting upon his curled fingers. 'Whom have you told about the Prophecy?' Snape asked eventually.

'Ron, Hermione and Ginny. It's not going any further.'

'And how did they react?

'Ginny was horrified.' Harry gave a brief snort of laughter. 'Ron and Hermione seemed to think I might have a chance.'

Snape was now tracing his mouth with his finger in a gesture that Harry remembered from his previous attempts to teach Harry Occlumency. 'You should perhaps be wary of Mr. Malfoy, even if he does respond in a positive manner to your overture Mr. Potter.'

'I'm not completely stupid Professor.' Dumbledore raised one hand from the arm of his chair, warning Snape not to respond to Harry's impertinence.

'Perhaps not,' said Snape. 'Mr. Malfoy, however, is Slytherin.'

Harry was unable to resist. 'So am I.' He instantly regretted the outburst as Snape froze. 'That is the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin but I'd met Malfoy and I'd met Ron. And I preferred Ron.' _When, _thought Harry, _will I learn to keep my big mouth shut? _

Snape looked at Dumbledore for confirmation. 'I'm afraid so, Severus.'

In an effort to change the subject Harry asked 'How's Jane?' deciding almost immediately that this was an even bigger mistake.

'Not happy.' Snape seemed angry but he continued calmly enough. 'Hogwarts has always been a refuge in times of trouble and, it being known that the Dark Lord has returned, there have been a number of late acceptances of places at the school. She, along with four others will be joining us at the start of term.'

'Oh dear,' said Harry. Although having heard what Kingsley Shacklebolt had to say about someone "owning" Snape, he wasn't entirely surprised that Dumbledore would want her where he could keep an eye on her. Or that Snape would accept this. She probably would be safer at Hogwarts and she would be able to study magic rather than mathematics. It was just unfortunate that Jane hated school.

'Indeed. I trust that I do not have to warn you to stay away from her?'

Friendship with him, Harry realised, would only make her a target 'No, sir,' he replied rather sadly. 'I'll treat her just the same as any other student. Although if she's sorted into Gryffindor . . .'

'I think that entirely unlikely,' said Snape. 'Now, if you will excuse me Headmaster, I have a potion that will soon be requiring attention.' Snape got up and left the room and Harry heard the front door slam.

'Try not to tease him, Harry, murmured Dumbledore.

'Well she might be, sir.'

From what I have seen of her, Jane will almost certainly be sorted into Hufflepuff.'

'Hufflepuff, sir?' said Harry in surprise.

'Loyalty, tenacity, integrity and kindness. Rather unfashionable virtues perhaps; but you cannot have forgotten that Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff?'

'But she took on Dudley and then the Dementors. She was even prepared to take on you, sir.'

'Because she felt that she had no choice. Never underestimate "nice" people, Harry.' Dumbledore gave him a brief, twinkling smile. 'Oh, and it might be better not to mention your experience this evening to anyone. Goodnight Harry.' With Fawkes on his shoulder, he turned to follow Snape out.

'Was that Dumbledore?' Hermione came into the library.

'Yes. He just wanted to make sure that I was alright. Dinner ready?'

'Yes. Harry, are you alright?'

'I'm fine,' said Harry.

-

Ghostlike, Harry drifted down the stairs.

He had awoken to find himself floating above his bed and looked down to find his body, on the bed below him, apparently asleep. Harry had been surprised at how peaceful he looked. Then he decided to use the opportunity to practice moving instantaneously between places, starting with a transition between the hallway of the house on Grimmauld Place and his bedroom.

In the hallway he could see light from the kitchen and hear voices. He was moving towards them when the snake Guardian rose from out of the floor.

'Harry Potter.'

'Hello Nero.'

'Have you spoken to Nymphadora Black?'

'Er, yes. No problem about the chess set. Why do you call her "Black" anyway?'

'Thiss iss the Housse of Black. It iss hers only if the name iss herss,' said the Guardian.

'Oh. Well. Goodnight Nero.'

As the snake sank back into the floor, Harry drifted into the kitchen. "Madeye" Moody was speaking. '. . . and really you can't blame them . . .'

'He's sixteen, only a child!' Mrs. Weasley sounded upset. Sitting around the table. were Tonks, Remus Lupin, Moody, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and, very much to Harry's surprise, Percy Weasley

'A child who has managed to stop "he who must not be named" and who hates the Ministry,' said Percy.

'And whose fault is that' demanded Mrs. Weasley, 'when the Minister's own so called "Senior Undersecretary" tortured him?'

'Quite,' said Moody. 'The boy has every reason to hate them. And, child or not, he's dangerous and can only become more so. And of course, because of this, in their usual thoughtful and considerate manner, the Ministry are trying to control him.'

'The question is, how far are they prepared to go?' mused Tonks.

'This is Fudge we're talking about,' said Mr. Weasley.

There was a long silence.

'You don't think they'd . . .' whispered Mrs. Weasley.

'Harry is becoming a very powerful wizard,' said Lupin. 'Worse, he is seen to be someone who could challenge the Ministry. Something infinitely more dangerous than a mere werewolf.' 'They are quite capable of killing him.' Tonks put a sympathetic hand on Lupin's arm.

'But Harry's not evil!' There were tears in Mrs. Weasley's eyes. Mr. Weasley put his arm around his wife's shoulders.

'No, Harry's not evil. We know that, but the Ministry doesn't always behave very rationally,' said Tonks. 'Fudge himself is foolish rather than bad. He allows himself to be persuaded by people he shouldn't. He was very put out when Malfoy was arrested, until he saw the opportunity to gain control of the Malfoy estate. Right now he's listening to Dumbledore, but we have to be aware that that could change.' She looked thoughtful. 'Perhaps the best thing would be to make the Ministry believe that Harry's not important except as a distraction for Voldemort. Percy . . .?'

'I can try,' said Percy. He stood up, as did his parents. 'Mum, dad.' The Weasleys embraced and then left the kitchen together.

'At least that's one less problem,' murmured Remus.

'Not to mention that, once again, we have our "Man in the Ministry",' said Moody, getting to his feet. 'Unbelievable that they'd put Arthur under "Suspension".'

'Shoot the messenger,' said Tonks. 'They can't get at Harry so they have a go at Ron.' Moody shook his head and left.

'Good night Tonks.' Remus followed the others.

'Night.' Finally Tonks stood up. _'Nox!' _Harry hear her go out, leaving him floating in the darkness of the kitchen trying to make sense of what he'd heard.


	12. A return

'Hey Harry, you awake?'

Actually Harry had been awake for quite some time. The idea that the Ministry of Magic could consider him evil had not been conducive to sleep. He sat up and put on his glasses. 'Morning Ron.'

Ron was sitting on the edge of his bed putting on his slippers. _Time to take the bull by the horns then,_ thought Harry. 'Ron. I was wandering around last night. when I couldn't sleep. I overheard that your dad was under "Suspension" from the Ministry.'

'Yeah, that's right,' said Ron proudly. 'The wallies tried to suspend him without pay and that was when we found out how popular dad is. All sorts of people objected, even Neville's gran. So right now he's "Suspended", on full pay, the Department is falling apart without him and Fudge looks even more of a prat than usual.' The grin got wider. 'He's had to offer dad a promotion and a pay increase to get him to go back. And in the meantime he and the twins have been busy placing magical protections on the homes of Hogwarts' Muggleborn students. You know, Dad's spent years dealing with people misusing muggle artefacts and he's far worse than the ruddy twins in the "dirty tricks" department. Fred and George had to sell out to Zonko's after the Ministry went after them for trafficking in Non-Tradeable Substances. Zonko's, being a "respectable" and long established firm have all the Licences they need and they've retained them on a "Consultancy" basis.' He paused. 'You know the muggles really seem to take to my dad. Although there's nothing like a portable swamp to discourage unwelcome visitors. Even Bill's been lending a hand. After "The Burrow" was hit, or perhaps that should be after a few Death Eaters were hit by "The Burrow", we're getting all sorts of requests for assistance. The only bad news is that Percy's back.'

'And Mrs. Weasley . . .' began Hermione who had appeared in the doorway.

'And mum thinks the sun shines out of him again.'

'But we do get to hear all sorts of things,' said Hermione. 'Percy's in a ideal position.'

'Yeah, after last year, most people think he's not very bright.' Ron smirked. 'Talk right in front of him.'

'I hate it that these things are happening to you because of me,' said Harry.

'Harry, wake up!' scoffed Hermione 'I'm a Muggleborn witch and I'm in the right place to maybe make a difference. What makes you think I'd want to change that?'

Harry put his head into his hands. 'The Ministry think I'm evil,' he murmured.

'Which tells us more about the Ministry than it does about you,' said Hermione. 'Well I'm hungry. See you at breakfast.'

'The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.'

Harry looked up to see concern and disbelief on his friends' faces. 'If I hadn't met Ron on the train and then fallen out with Malfoy, I might not have argued. I might have been in Slytherin.' Harry swallowed painfully. 'Just luck.'

'But Slytherin are . . .' Ron trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

'Evil?' said Harry.

'Well obviously not,' said Hermione. 'Are you saying that a quarter of the school are evil? That's silly. Some of them are alright. They must be.'

'But . . .' said Ron.

'Breakfast,' said Hermione, heading out of the door. Ron followed her and Harry heard a whispered argument start up in the hall.

Harry closed the door and got dressed.

Hermione and Ron's acceptance helped a lot. That didn't stop Harry tackling Snape at his next Occlumency lesson. With Snape sitting on the opposite side of the desk, watching him thoughtfully, Harry reported his progress with "Astral Projection" and then related the conversation that he had heard. 'You told me that if I had a problem I should tell you sir,' said Harry warily.

'I did.' Snape's response was grudging.

'Do you think I'm dangerous, sir,' prompted Harry.

'Unquestionably.'

_To my friends, _thought Harry. It wasn't necessary for Snape to expand upon his reply. 'And evil?' he asked quietly.

Snape leant back. 'Very few people are truly evil. Most are merely arrogant and mistaken. Unfortunately, this is generally sufficient.'

'They were talking about me as if I were about to become the next Dark Lord,' said Harry.

Snape sneered. 'While you may possess the arrogance Potter, you lack the application.'

It was with a horribly sore head, but an easier heart, that Harry bid Snape goodnight.

&

The scruffy van that Tonks had hired finally stopped outside Kings Cross Station. Harry climbed out of the crew cab and stretched.

Unfortunately Tonks herself was back at work after the recent escape, from Azkaban, of the Death Eaters captured at the Ministry. Instead 'Mad Eye' Moody had driven, happily crashing gears, cutting up taxis and generally terrorising the London traffic. Despite being assured that charms were in place to prevent collision, Harry noticed that Hermione had shut her eyes after the first half mile. It had been decided that this was the safest way to travel from Grimmauld Place to King's Cross Station. By whom was unclear, although Harry was inclined to wonder if the spectacularly misinformed individual responsible for that particular decision had not been the Order's revered leader. Privately resolving never again to go anywhere near anything driven by Moody, Harry went around to the back to collect his luggage. Moody helped him to lift his trunk onto a trolley. As he followed the others into the station, Harry turned to the old Auror. 'I just though I'd let you know that I've decided against becoming the next Dark Lord,' he said.

Moody was clearly startled. Both his magical eye and his normal one fixed on Harry. 'In that case . . .'

'Constant vigilance?' said Harry.

'Constant vigilance,' said Moody. 'It can be easy to . . . Harry . . . never mind, keep up.'

Harry hurriedly followed the others to Platform 9 3/4. As he came through the barrier he realised immediately that there was a problem. The black robes and silver masks surrounding him were convincing enough. 'The "_Expelliamus!" _aimed at him was entirely superfluous. Harry dropped to the ground and the curse struck his trunk, which seemed to explode in a fountain of socks and nether garments, and then Harry found himself being dragged back through the barrier.

He looked up to find Moody and the White Queen from the snarky chess set, now entirely life size. 'Stay!' said the Queen, heading back through the barrier to Platform 9 3/4. Harry rolled to his feet, easily evading Moody, and followed her to find, in place of Death Eaters, only a number of peculiarly horrible red splashes. 'What happened?' asked Harry.

'The pawns,' said the White Queen, 'were enthusiastic enough, however it seems that your attackers were still able to apparate.' She sounded distinctly miffed.

'I didn't realise that you could become life-size,' said Harry.

'Oh we couldn't, but you gave us permission to clear up and so we did. Every loose bit of dark magic in the house,' said the White Queen. smugly. 'The Guardian was pleased to be rid of it. Apparently it itched.'

Harry's grin faded at the look on Ron's face. 'Ginny's been hurt.'

'I've warned Dumbledore,' said Tonks suddenly appearing at Harry's elbow. _'Pack!' _she said, and Harry's trunk reordered itself. 'You need to get to Hogwarts.' The Queen had disappeared, presumably back to the chess box. 'Styles,' yelled Tonks, and a blonde man in Aurors robes turned towards her. 'We should get them to Hogwarts as soon as possible.'

'This way,' said Hermione. They found Ginny in a compartment having her hand clutched by Neville as Luna held a cold compress to her head..

'Hi,' said Luna brightly.

'I'm fine,' protested Ginny pulling her hand free. 'I was pushed and fell over my trolley. That's all. You'd be ignoring it if I'd done it playing Quiddich.' She looked up at Harry. 'That was your chess set, wasn't it?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

'Well it might be better if you didn't tell anyone,' said Hermione. 'I don't imagine the Ministry would be to pleased about you owning something like that, even if it's not actually illegal.'

'How can it be illegal?' demanded Ron. 'Dumbledore gave it to him.' Hermione just looked at Ron and Harry thought about Time Turners and various other transgressions against Ministry edicts. 'Oh, right then,' said Ron, bouncing down into a corner seat. 'Any dodgy plants this year Neville?'

'Not this year,' said Neville, 'but I do have a new wand that works a lot better than my old one.' He smiled slowly. 'Oh, and my dear old uncle Algie fell off the pier.'

'How come?' asked Ron.

'Someone put Weasleys' self-retying laces in his shoes.'

The train left the station at eleven o'clock as scheduled. After the first three people had approached him to apologise for not believing him, Harry pretended to sleep. He woke up at Hogsmeade Station to the sound of heavy rainfall drumming on the carriage roof. Hermione cast a rain deflection charm and they scrambled to the carriages.

It was with a enormous sense of relief and homecoming that Harry entered the Great Hall. Behind the enchanted ceiling clouds scurried across the stars. Candles floating in midair threw soft radiance onto familiar, darkly gleaming wood. Harry sat down with Neville on one side of him and Hermione on the other. A shuffling along the bench made room for Ron on Hermione's other side. He looked around, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from various groups of people scattered amongst the tables. Malfoy met his eyes for a moment and then looked away. There was the expected new face at the staff table. A rather small woman with feathery looking blonde hair was deep in conversation with Madame Sprout. _The new Potions Mistress_, thought Harry. Snape looked as unpleasant as ever and curiously self-satisfied. _As well he might be, _thought Harry, _having finally achieved the official "Doing Away with Harry Potter" position. _Harry had baulked at that description when Ron had used it, but Remus has just smiled ruefully and wondered aloud if Snape would be proof against the DADA jinx that had prevented anyone lasting more than a year since Harry had first come to the school..

The great doors to the Entrance Hall opened and Professor McGonagall, carrying the Sorting Hat and stool, lead in the new first years. Harry noticed Jane amongst a small group of older students, near the back of the line, a slightly bemused look on her face. She gave no sign of recognising him. He avoided looking at Snape, instead watching as McGonagall placed the hat onto the stool. After a moment the rip near the hat's brim opened and the hat began:

The sorting hat am I, and I will not fail to sort.  
But once again I'll warn you, for time is getting short.  
And deadly foes surround us desiring our downfall.  
Open your eyes! Understand! Look around this hall!  
In Slytherin ambition and cunning may be seen.  
Yet many a brave and loving heart beats beneath the green.  
While loyalty and wisdom may be clothed in red and gold.  
Those who are called Gryffindor are more than merely bold.  
A lifelong love of learning may be found in Ravenclaw.  
For all have bright enquiring minds, yet all are so much more.  
Though Hufflepuff, she drew no lines but took in all the rest.  
Amongst her house are frequently the fairest and the best.  
Since Hogwarts first was founded, there have been houses four.  
Yet that which cannot change must fail, for this is a natures law.  
Do not misjudge the danger, you all must know the score,  
Of Slytherin's old enmity with rival Gryffindor,  
Of Hufflepuff disparaged and aloof Ravenclaw.  
If Hogwarts is divided, soon Hogwarts may be no more.

There was absolute silence. Not even the rustle of clothing disturbed the hush of the Great Hall. Not so much as a whisper was heard as Professor McGonagall picked up the hat. 'Cassius Arkwright,' she intoned and a small boy found the courage to approach the hat and be rapidly sorted into Gryffindor. Applause sounded thunderously as, blushing, the boy joined his new housemates and the sorting continued. Snape was staring at the hat with an expression that promised a late night assignation with steaming Bubo-tuber pus, and had been since the line about "brave and loving" hearts. Two of the late entrants, a brother and sister of perhaps twelve and thirteen, were sorted into Slytherin and sat amongst the first years earnestly discussing something that could well have been the first train back to London. Two boys of about Ginny's age became Ravenclaws and Jane, apparently to her own satisfaction as well as the hat's, was proclaimed _'Hufflepuff!'_

Finally the sorting was finished and Dumbledore rose to his feet. 'Welcome all of you, students old and new, to Hogwarts,' he said jovially. '"Brave and loving" hearts indeed. Although it occurs to me that it would perhaps be unwise to allow Professor Snape to have the little chat with the hat that he so clearly desires.' This was greeted with laughter and applause from all of the houses while the hat contrived to appear terrified. Snape turned his dark regard from the hat to the headmaster, his expression not altering one whit, and Dumbledore raised his hands in a mock placatory gesture. 'Tuck in.'

As ever the feast was excellent and even the Sorting Hat's dire warning could not put the students off their food for long. Feeling replete and relaxed Harry turned as Dumbledore stood up. 'Welcome, as I have said, to our students, old and new. Times change and, this year, we all must face new challenges. And this year may prove particularly challenging for many if us. The Sorting Hat has spoken of the danger of Hogwarts being divided against itself.' Dumbledore sighed. 'Well, let me speak of what we may achieve together with knowledge, ambition, courage and tenacity. We can change the world.' He looked around. 'Some things, however, never seem to change. There is still to be no magic in the corridors. The current list of objects forbidden inside the castle has been bound into a little booklet, available from Mr. Filch. The Forbidden Forest is still forbidden to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade. Again to all students. As you know the wizard who calls himself "Lord Voldemort" has returned.' Dumbledore waited as the whispering quickly died away. 'A great many people have found it necessary to change their plans and to rejoin the struggle, and so we have some new older students. I trust that they will be made welcome. I hope that you will also welcome Madame Karnstein, our new Potions Mistress.' There was applause that quickly grew stronger at the Slytherin table and briefly faltered amongst the other houses as the ramifications of that were realised. When it quietened Dumbledore continued, 'I am very pleased to tell you that Professor Snape has taken on the vacant Defence Against the Dark Arts position.' There was even louder applause from Slytherin, spreading slowly to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. As Gryffindor sat appalled, Snape turned his attention to Harry and smiled a malicious smile. 'And on that happy note,' concluded Dumbledore, 'off to bed, the lot of you.'

&

As Harry finished his breakfast the following day, Draco Malfoy walked up behind him. 'A word, Potter,' he ground out and left the hall.

'I think I'd better find out what's up with Malfoy,' Harry said, rising from his place. 'No need . . . '

'We're finished,' said Ron, grimly. He and Hermione got up and, noticing this, so did Ginny.

'In here,' said Malfoy. Harry and his friends followed him into an empty room. There was a sudden metallic crash as a heavy bag hit the ground. 'You can't buy me. I don't need it.'

Harry didn't move. Something was very, very wrong. He stared at Malfoy and realised that behind the boy's grey eyes was something much older than his Slytherin rival.

'Ron, no!'

Too late. Ron had bent down to pick up the bag of galleons and disappeared the moment that his fingers had touched it. Harry turned to the thing that was now wearing Draco Malfoy. 'It's not Ron you want. Let him go.'

Malfoy's features contorted into a sneer.

'Wizard's oath,' said Harry, 'Hogsmeade crossroads, ten minutes. You don't hurt him. Let him go, unharmed, and I'll come quietly.'

'Agreed.' Suddenly the young Slytherin collapsed and Harry watched as he was violently sick.

'Nor your fault,' Harry told him quietly. He turned to Hermione. 'Get all of the houses together if you can. If I don't come back. Riddle's really not all that strong. Ginny,' he murmured with affection, 'if Ron's not back here in fifteen minutes, tell Dumbledore anyway.'

'We should tell him now,' said Ginny.

'He'd try to stop me,' said Harry.

'No,' whispered Hermione with tears dripping from her chin and her fists tight in his robes.

'Just like first year,' said Harry, pushing her tangled hair from her face. Now that there were no more choices he felt oddly peaceful. Pulling her hands free, he smiled gently at Hermione and then turned to find that Ginny had helped Malfoy up. She too had been possessed by Riddle he remembered. Draco was standing, swaying, looking at him as if he had never seen him before. Harry spun round and ran out of the castle. 'Accio broom, accio chess set,' he called. There was a bright scatter of falling glass from one of the windows of Gryffindor tower and Harry seized his broom, tucked his chess set into his robes, and flew off towards Hogsmeade.


	13. Power the Dark Lord Knows Not

'What's up laddie?' came a voice from the chess set in the pocket of Harry's robes.

Harry was flying fast through a pocket of rock and trees that forced a loop in the Hogsmeade road. 'Voldemort's got Ron. I've agreed to exchange myself for him,' he told the chessmen as he swung fast around a stand of young birch, keeping low to avoid observation from Hogwarts. He did not want to be stopped before he reached his objective, still minutes away.

'They know about us,' said another voice that Harry identified as the Black Queen. 'You should be aware that the chess set's animus is its owner. If it was taken from you, it could be used for dark purposes.' She sounded worried.

Flying instinctively, Harry's whirling mind seized upon the questions posed by the chess set. _Just how "human" are they?_ he asked himself. They certainly seemed to have the capacity for enjoyment and now they seemed to be afraid. And despite the fact that a large part of the set's power was dark magic acquired from the Grimmauld place, it seemed that what the pieces were afraid of was being used for evil purposes. Harry wondered if that was because they belonged to him or if it had it to do with whoever had made them. Perhaps they just liked the opportunities for acquisition that Harry represented. Or feared destruction. He didn't know, but he would not force them. _Could something made by wizards truly be self aware?_ Harry asked himself. _What about the Sorting Hat?_ He swung round to follow the course of a burn that was heading in the right direction.

'I'm not taking you,' said Harry. 'What I want you to do is take care of Ron and make sure he gets back to Hogwarts ok. Will you do that? Look after my friends until I come back?'

'Aye laddie. We can do that.'

'If yuh don' come back, can we still belong tu yuh?' asked another voice lugubriously.

'If that's what you want.'

Wand in hand, Harry touched down in the middle of the crossroads. Almost immediately Ron appeared, looking dazed, with a Death Eater on either side of him. _'Finite incantatum!' _said Harry and Ron was suddenly alert.

'_Imper . . .' _Finding a pike point beneath his throat the Death Eater broke off suddenly. 'You said you'd come quietly,' he protested.

'I was promised that Ron would be unharmed,' said Harry.

'Harry, no!' yelped Ron suddenly realising what was happening.

'We've discussed this,' said Harry. 'It's me the bastard's after. The reports in the "Prophet" were bad enough. I wasn't prepared to sit at Hogwarts while they sent you back in little pieces. Even to try would be a sort of suicide. That's not who I am.' Harry threw the chess box at Ron who caught it automatically. 'Take care of this for me until I get back.'

'And if you don't come back?' demanded Ron furiously.

'Get the Hogwarts Houses working together. Defeat Riddle.'

The four of them had discussed, argued and analysed the Prophesy for days. Eventually they had concluded that while 'one' might fail to defeat the Dark Lord, and die in the attempt, this didn't mean that 'many' could not subsequently succeed.

'And Malfoy?' growled Ron.

'It wasn't his fault, any more than what happened to me at the Ministry,' said Harry.

'You didn't let Voldemort possess you,' argued Ron, seizing Harry's shoulders as though physically to restrain him.

The Death Eater, who had spoken previously, interrupted; thrusting a wooden rod at Harry. 'Shut up and take this.'

Harry raised his wand threateningly but otherwise ignored the man. 'Neither did Malfoy but Voldemort was stronger. Voldemort couldn't hold me when I thought about you and Hermione; couldn't stand contact with my mind any more than Quirrel could stand touching me. Malfoy isn't lucky enough to have friends like that. He didn't have Dumbledore to rescue him. And I don't think he's very happy with Voldemort right now.' Impulsively Harry grabbed Ron and hugged him. Ron returned the embrace but, when they let go, there was despair in his eyes.

'You can do it,' said Harry. Not breaking eye contact he let his fingers touch the rod. The usual unpleasant effects of Portkey usage followed and Harry found himself kneeling on the chequer-tiled floor of a torch-lit antechamber. In front of the wide, double-doored entrance to the main chamber, obviously waiting for them, were a number of figures in black robes and silver masks.

'Harry,' said Bellatrix sweetly, removing her mask. _'Crucio!'_

Terrible as it was, the pain lasted only seconds. As his own wand was pulled from his fingers, Harry looked up to find that the Death Eater from his escort who had not yet spoken had twisted Bellatrix's wand from her hand and was tucking it into his cloak. 'That was foolish, Bella,' said Lucius Malfoy.

Shakily, Harry got up and Malfoy pushed him towards the doors that opened as they approached. Within lay a large room constructed of stone. Darkness lay behind pillars enclosing circular steps that led up from a wide open floor at the far end of which reposed an enormous black throne. On it sat the man who had been Tom Riddle: the wizard who called himself "Lord Voldemort". On the floor in front of him, in a dark robed circle knelt his followers. At the far end, the circle was broken by a pair of magical fires on the floor in front of the throne; at the near end by a gap through which the reception party approached the throne. _Poser_ thought Harry, twisting away as Malfoy attempted to push him to his knees.

'Bellatrix,' said Voldemort pleasantly, 'come here and bring the Portkey.' As she obeyed, the others bowed and slipped silently to their places in the circle. Removing her mask, Bellatrix knelt on the steps before the throne and, eyes bent downwards, offered up the wooden rod. Voldemort took it and brought it sharply across her face.

Shocked, Harry stared at Voldemort but Bellatrix, blood dripping from her white face, did not react at all.

Voldemort smiled at Harry. _This is what I do to my followers, _his expression said,_ how much more will I do to you?_

'You disobeyed me Bella,' said Voldemort. She stiffened. 'As the first part of your punishment you will have to miss our little entertainment. Go home and wait with your sister.' She stood, but not upright. Still bowing, Bellatrix crept backwards towards the doors which opened to allow her out.

'_Arbor mortis!' _said Voldemort's high pitched voice and, with a scream of tortured metal, an iron spike thrust itself out of the stone floor beside Harry. Like the shoot of some weird plant, it began to sprout branches and tendrils that wrapped themselves around Harry, lifting him off the ground and turning him towards the throne, the tendrils twisting and tightening, forcing Harry's head backwards. 'Enough,' said Voldemort getting up from his throne and coming closer to examine his captive. 'Harry Potter,' he said idly, 'the "Boy Who Lived", the one they all trust to save them. And he will. He will. Harry Potter will destroy the Dark Lord Voldemort and such a hero will deserve anything he wants. He won't need Death Eaters; he'll have Aurors, the whole Ministry of Magic and eventually the world. And he will be generous to his former enemies; he will forgive their mistakes and purge the ones who are truly responsible. What do you think about that Harry Potter?'

There could be no doubt that Voldemort was enjoying himself hugely. During his adversary's speech Harry had been clearing his mind as he had been taught and separating his thoughts. While the higher levels of his consciousness were filled with a deep roiling fury, in some abyss far beneath, the quiet voice of his internal auditor maintained a stillness.

'YOU TRIED THAT BEFORE YOU STUPID SOD,' yelled Harry. 'YOU TRIED TO POSSESS ME AND YOU COULDN'T DO IT.'

'Ah, yes,' replied Voldemort, 'but this time you won't be there to stop me, will you?' Laughing he flicked his wand towards the doors which Harry heard open. Harry did not need to see what was coming into the room. He could feel it. As the Death Eaters shrunk toward the floor and Harry froze in terror, Voldemort laughed again. 'Kiss him,' he said.

'Be still,' said the quiet deep within him as the Dementor slipped into view, and Harry fought to get free of the constraining metal. 'Wait,' he told himself, as the insane laughter was drowned by his mother's screaming and the hood was lifted from the Dementor's awful rotted visage. 'Wait!' as it leant in towards him, but Harry could stand it no longer. His eyes closed reflexively and then he was standing behind himself, watching the nauseating expression of cruelty and greed on the Dark Lord's reptilian face. He could not look at the Dementor.

'Go now,' said Voldemort and the creature slid obediently away, although Harry could not help but think that it seemed confused. He moved forward to look at his own face that was now slack jawed and drooling. _Vacant,_ he thought. Voldemort returned to his throne, staring with avid pleasure at the body of his victim. 'My_ loyal_ supporters you may go and begin the celebrations. You will be called for the ritual.' He waved one hand vaguely and, starting with those furthest from the throne, the Death Eaters crept out in the same manner as Bellatrix had.

'Wormtail,' said Voldemort.

Silently, from behind the great throne, came something that Harry did not immediately recognise. Emaciated and bald, he did not walk but crept on his knees to prostrate himself before his master and offer him a glass part filled with some cloudy liquid. Voldemort gestured and Pettigrew rose to his knees to hand the potion to him. 'You may begin work on that,' said Voldemort, sipping from the glass.

As Pettigrew approached the metal tree, it began to sink back into the ground releasing Harry's body. With difficulty, Pettigrew lifted the body over his shoulder and carried it behind the throne and down a narrow flight of stairs that had been hidden by the mass of the throne itself. Harry followed to find a small, dim chamber set up as a potions laboratory. Between two long wooden work benches lay something like a large glass coffin half full of what looked like the same cloudy liquid that Voldemort was ingesting. Pettigrew laid Harry's body onto one of the benches and began to undress it. Sickened, Harry decided find out what else was going on.

Voldemort was still sipping from his glass and giggling. Ignoring the disquieting noise, Harry crossed the throne room and emerged through the doors into the antechamber. Drawn by the sound of voices he followed them down the corridor to a room comfortably furnished with card-tables, book cases, comfortable chairs and even a billiard table. There were also small tables with glasses and bottles of brandy. Harry watched and listened to some of the conversations. He was surprised at how mundane the Death Eaters were without their masks. Harry thought the room resembled a London Club he had once seen in a film on the television. Apart from the fear.

Malfoy was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, seemingly distracted. Certainly the others were giving him a wide berth. A house-elf appeared kneeling beside his chair, whispering to him and, with a sharp glance, Malfoy stood up. 'If you will excuse me for a few moments?' he drawled. Determinedly casual acknowledgments met the host's slight bow. Harry followed him out and along the corridor, up a staircase and through several formal rooms until he reached a pleasant, sun-lit space, where he found Snape waiting with the same odd glitter in his eyes that Harry had seen the day of the Triwizard Tournament.

'Severus, can you truly believe that it was wise to come here?' asked Malfoy.

'I found that I did not have a choice,' replied Snape. He pulled a sheet of parchment from his robes and offered it to Malfoy, who took it and glanced at it.

'Potions ingredients?' he queried.

'Potions ingredients, some of which are rather unusual and have been acquired recently by an unknown purchaser.

'Indeed?'

'Perhaps I could speak with whichever of your house-elves is responsible for household supplies.'

Malfoy's face hardened. 'Why?'

Snape took a deep breath. 'As far as I am aware, this particular combination is used in only one potion: a concoction so dark as not to possess a name. It is used to facilitate the transfer of souls.'

'Yes,' returned Malfoy warily. 'The Dark Lord has had Potter kissed. He proposes to occupy the body.'

Snape's black eyes closed for a moment, then he asked softly: 'Has he begun the procedure?'

'Yes. We are to be called back for the ritual.'

'If the Dark Lord does not use too much magic, Potter may last as long as ten or fifteen years,' said Snape. 'I think it probable that he will not unduly restrain himself, but even so he is likely to have sufficient time to consolidate his hold on power. By the time he needs a replacement he will be entirely unopposed. Subsequent transfers, however, will not be as sustainable as the first. Once a year might suffice, if he is moderate.' Snape faced Malfoy. 'There are not enough of us.'

'He'll use the mudbloods.'

'Do you really think so?' asked Snape. 'Well, perhaps he will try to use them first. And perhaps not. Lucius, we joined him to protect our own kind, our heritage, our families, but the majority of his victims have been pure-blooded.' Snape gazed at a large mirror overhanging the fireplace. 'And do you really believe that he won't take the very best that is available to him?'

Malfoy followed Snape's gaze. 'Draco,' he breathed, horrified.

'Draco,' confirmed Snape.

'What can we do?' asked Malfoy. 'It is our magic he's using to cheat death, the only way to stop that would be to . . . '

'To make that energy unavailable,' Snape concluded. He might have been talking about the weather. 'We have to force him to deal with his own death by himself.'

'Well, we're here,' muttered Lucius. 'What would you recommend?'

Snape threw back his travelling robe to reveal what looked like a thickly padded jacket. 'Muggle explosive, packed with poisonous shrapnel. The merest scratch is generally fatal in seconds. If I can get close enough it should be sufficient to render his present body untenable. The potion will weaken him,' Snape's jaw tightened 'and without the support of the Death Eaters he is mortal.'

Malfoy nodded slowly and then strolled stiffly to stand in the sunlight that was pouring in through the windows. 'How is my son?' he asked.

'Rather shaken, but Potter and the others exonerated him.'

'I know,' said Malfoy, almost sadly. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair as though thinking and then snapped his fingers. Immediately a house-elf appeared on its knees before him. Malfoy dropped the potions list and the terrified creature caught it. 'What has been done with these items?' demanded Malfoy.

'In the Rat-wizard's work-room,' the house-elf quaked.

'Go,' said Malfoy, and the elf was gone. 'I'm sorry Severus but, insane as he undoubtedly is, Dumbledore can be tricky. How much influence have you there anyway.'

'I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix,' replied Snape with a slight shrug.

'Are you, indeed?' Malfoy smirked and then his features fell into something that might have been regret.

'You could just leave,' suggested Snape.

Malfoy shook his head. 'You have a much better chance of getting close enough to . . . Riddle if I take you to him.'

'Is it still possible to apparate within the main chamber?' asked Snape.

'Yes,' replied Malfoy, 'but not out of it. Try not to splinch yourself.'

Snape's mouth twitched. 'I have become, perforce, rather expert at avoiding explosions. How shall I warn you?'

'And warn him?' said Malfoy. 'No. Just get yourself clear. Take care of the children.' He smoothed his robes. 'Tell Draco.' he added quietly. Snape nodded and put one hand on Malfoy's back.

Malfoy straightened, smiled his remorseless, pureblood smile and turned towards the doors. 'Time for a drink with a few old friends?'

Harry followed the men back down towards the throne room until, quite abruptly, they stopped to exchange glances and then Malfoy rubbed his left arm. 'Sorry, no time for the drink,' he said. He held out his hand towards Snape who took it. 'Goodbye,' said Malfoy.

In the antechamber, the other Death Eaters were already waiting. Malfoy preceded them in, his hand on Snape's elbow. Snape appeared terrified, not raising his eyes he stumbled across the throne room to fall onto his knees before the Dark Lord. 'Master,' he whispered. Having escorted him to Voldemort, Malfoy bowed and slipped smoothly into his own place leaving Snape kneeling directly in front of the throne.

'Severus,' said Voldemort. 'Did the old fool sent you here after his favourite?'

'Yes,' hissed Snape, crouching lower.

'Stand,' said Voldemort.

Snape obeyed carefully. He kept his eyes turned toward the ground. 'I know the prophecy,' he offered.

'Indeed?' demanded Voldemort. 'A little late, perhaps,' he sneered, 'but tell me anyway.'

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . .'

'Well Potter is gone,' said Voldemort. His red eyes gleamed with vicious amusement as he considered Snape. 'And you are here. Look at me.' But as Snape obeyed, an immense explosion ripped through the throne room bringing down some of the columns and a large part of the ceiling.

Afterwards, apart from the small noises of settling masonry, there was no sound at all for a while until, clothes grey with dust, Snape emerged from behind a pillar. His face expressionless, he began to pick his way, across the debris strewn floor, towards the fires now burning atop the rubble of the throne from which a low buzzing, ominously like a disturbed wasp's nest had commenced. It quickly became louder and then a nebulous darkness, like a swarm of tiny flies, rose up from the broken stone. Harry could see a trickle of blood from Snape's ear and realised that he must be deafened. Neither did he appear to notice the shadowy swarm now drifting toward him.

'SNAPE!' yelled Harry unheard. He tried to intercept him but, inches in front of his face, Harry remained unseen. The cloud was getting ever closer and in sudden desperation Harry plunged his head into the professor's. Snape jerked back so hard that he fell sprawling and, when he got up, he fled out into the antechamber to disapparate immediately. Still within the devastated throne room, floating in midair, Harry curled up into himself and wondered how someone could be so afraid and still function. Even Harry's earlier panic, when the Dementor had tried to kiss him, had not approached the dreadful extent of what he had experienced when he had touched the former Death Eater. Harry realised that only the strength of Snape's will, reinforced by the sheer intensity of his rage, had allowed him to walk into the throne room.

When he was next able to pay attention, the swarm had altered direction towards the potions laboratory behind the throne. Trying not to look at the still bleeding bits of people in the rubble, Harry slipped swiftly down, through the partially blocked the shaft, into the gloomy chamber into which Pettigrew had taken his body.

Looking half stunned Pettigrew was standing beside the glass coffin, with the 'Star of Grace' in his hand and staring at it, as if to interrogate the stone. Then, with an expression of horror, he turned to face the steps up to the throne room.

Harry could hear buzzing, the sound distorted by the stairway and getting louder, and then he could see the greater darkness emerging from the doorway following a pulsing thread that ran from Pettigrew's dark mark. Behind the approaching horror other threads stretched away but they were much thinner, almost insubstantial. 'Time and distance matter in magic' Snape had said and the few remaining marked ones were distant. Pettigrew could not apparently see what was coming but could hear something because he started to edge away, turning his head from side to side, until his silver hand shot out to anchor him to the heavy wooden table.

Pettigrew dropped the stone and the man became a rat that squealed in abject terror, still held by its silver paw. The rat seemed quite able to see what pursued it. Pettigrew resumed his human form and picked up a long narrow knife from the table, and laid it against his wrist, ready to sever the silver hand but as the blade touched his skin he stopped; suddenly very still.

For the space of several heartbeats the former Marauder gazed at the knife and then he put it down.

'I'm sorry,' he murmured and picking up the talisman, he placed it gently on the coffin lid. Then he picked up the knife and drove it unwaveringly up under his ribs and into his heart. The dark thread connecting him to Voldemort greyed to invisibility and then the darkness, very slowly, began to inch toward the coffin. There was something in the coffin that it didn't take long for Harry to identify as his own body. Harry knew immediately that he could not allow Voldemort to possess it and slid through the glass and into himself. Disorientated he tried to breath but his lungs were full of liquid, tried to sit up but could not escape the coffin and then he was lying on sand with the web of souls twisting in the sky above him; an incredible blue denoting the beginning or the end of twilight.

**Author's note:** apparently it was unclear how Snape escaped the explosion; I hope that this is better.


	14. Resolution

Harry sat up and was tackled to the ground.

He was suddenly fighting in near darkness with someone he realised was both bigger and stronger than himself: Tom Riddle as he had been before his fall. Harry however was quick and agile and well used to giving bigger, stronger people the slip. He twisted free and ran, followed by the other. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and then a whispering susurration becoming louder. He paused as something sounding like a horde of insects flew around him, closing in on Riddle. He couldn't see anything and, when they had passed, Harry walked until he couldn't hear anything either before he stopped.

'MIRANDA!' It was worth a try. Harry waited.

Harry waited a long time. He pulled his cloak around him and sat down on the sand. Then he lay down and watched the sky which had become neither lighter nor darker. Was it waiting for him to do some something? _"Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives" _Harry remembered. He needed some sort of weapon. But what? Harry put his hand to his throat but the cord with its blue stone talisman was not there. Pettigrew had taken it from him before he had killed himself.

Now Tom Riddle was dead; at least for the moment. It seemed likely that what happened in this desert would determine who would live and who would die and, however bad Harry thought killing, he knew that he could not allow Riddle to be the one to go back. And anyway it was Harry's body. The thought of what Voldemort would do with it was unacceptable. Which meant that Harry needed a weapon.

It was now lighter than it had been. Could that mean that things were better than before? Harry sat up. He needed a weapon. 'What do you see?' Miranda had asked. Did that mean that his surroundings responded to him? Harry closed his eyes and thought about the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. He imagined it on the ground in front of him. He imagined Fawkes bringing it to him in the hat. He imagined a knife, like the one Wormtail had used. Nothing at all happened. He stood up and looked around again. 'MIRANDA!'

Still nothing.

Harry pulled his cloak tighter around him and thought about weapons. He hadn't seen even a stone, let alone one big enough to be useful.

Rope.

Harry didn't have rope but he did have the means to make one. Harry seized the edge of his cloak and attacked it with his teeth. He managed to rip a piece of cloth about a foot wide off the bottom of it and then began to rip the torn off piece into strips. He soon discovered that however many bits he pulled off, and despite the growing pile of cloth strips, the fabric in his hands did not seem to diminish. When he thought he had enough strips, Harry began to plait them. He had been shown how to plait one year at the burrow when Mrs. Weasley had been making a rag rug for Ginny. Harry had not been terribly good at it but he seemed to have improved. Under his fingers a thin smooth length of black rope emerged.

When he looked up, it was to find that it had become much lighter. Harry felt sick. The rope looked like what it was: a weapon: a thing to kill with. Determinedly, Harry gathered it into loose coils and then hid his hand under his cloak which, he noticed, was undamaged. He began to retrace his steps.

As Harry followed his footsteps in the sand, he wondered what Voldemort had been doing in the meantime. Or, perhaps, what had been done to him. Whatever had flown past him had not sounded friendly. Harry found the area of disturbed sand where the scuffle had taken place and then followed Riddle's steps away. Many times, Riddle seemed to have fallen. Harry could see hand prints and other marks that suggested that he had fallen full length and crawled on the sand. He noticed something else after a while. The marks were getting smaller. When Harry finally saw something ahead of him, the footprints were those of a child.

It was a small boy that Harry found, sobbing facedown on the sand. Harry's hand tightened on his rope. He needed to get this over before he had too much time to think about it. He bent to pull the child upright, intending to slip the rope around his neck, but as he touched him the boy twisted around and cowered. 'I'm sorry,' cried Tom. 'I didn't mean to. I won't do it again! Please!'

Harry knelt beside him and tried to restrain the urge to be sick. 'Please,' said the boy, who looked to be about six, 'I was so hungry.'

_Hungry _thought Harry. 'What did you do he asked.'

'I stole bread.'

_From the orphanage _thought Harry. 'Is that all?' he asked. Miranda had said that this was a place for letting things go. She had also said that some might call it hell. Harry wondered what had happened to Tom Riddle.

The boy was now wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve. 'I don't know. Don't remember.'

'You remember nothing?' asked Harry.

'No, nothing' the boy hiccoughed.

'No killing people?'

The boy stared at Harry. 'In my dreams,' he said. 'I try. But I can't stop him. I try so hard and it keeps happening. Always the same. He kills them and there's nothing, nothing I can do. All the people. All dead. It's my fault and I can't stop him. But they're not real, there's years of them. I'm only . . . I'm not . . . just dreams.'

'They're not dreams,' said Harry and watched with compassion as Tom struggled to breath; tried to deal with what he had been told.

Finally the boy looked up. 'You're Harry Potter,' he whispered. 'You're here to kill me.' He blinked away tears.

His mind frozen, from somewhere, Harry found the will to unwind the rope. As he passed it around Tom Riddle, the boy leant in to his shoulder and Harry went rigid. Then he put his arms around the child. _Too long in the cupboard _thought Harry. It was impossible for him not to care about an abused child, even one that would grow up to become "Lord Voldemort". Tom hadn't done that without helpHe could hear the susurration approaching and looked up to see a swarm of angry spinning grey, like the screen of an untuned television set. Pulling Tom closer, he tried to wrap his cloak around him and then things, like fast moving grey snowflakes, were tunnelling though his flesh. He could see no damage but they hurt. They hurt a lot. Harry felt Tom tense within his arms and then a small pair of arms fastened around his waist. He closed his eyes and brought his chin down onto Tom's head. He wondered if strangulation might not be better than this. A few minutes and Tom would be free of this. Forever. He could feel tears running down his own face and then the snowstorm stopped.

Harry opened his eyes to absolute darkness. He could see himself and the child in his arms but nothing else at all.

Tom had relaxed and he too was looking around. 'Oh.' he said. 'You've got wings.' Harry twisted his head around and saw, not wings, but lines of light: many, many shining threads of light, stretching up behind his shoulders towards the web of souls. He could feel their gentle tugging. There was an expression of such awe on Tom's face that Harry smiled. Then he realised that Tom was becoming heavy.

It took only moments for Harry to make the calculation that before they reached the web, Tom would be too heavy to hold. He pulled him up. 'Hold onto my neck,' he said and Tom did, half choking Harry, clinging as though his life depended upon it.

_Nothing so trivial _thought Harry as he wrapped the rope that he had made around them. The rope helped. Slithering like a snake, it knotted itself round and round them. Elongating and twisting, it bound them and Harry was grateful. Tom had become incredibly heavy. The rope was cutting into Harry's back, hurting. Tom stifled a sob and Harry brought his knees up, wrapping himself around the younger boy, trying to reduce the weight on the rope. He closed his eyes and thought about the cupboard under the stairs. And hung on. After a long time the weight began to ease.

When Harry opened his eyes it was to find that he was being pulled into the web of souls. 'Tom?' he asked 'Are you ok?

Tom's eyes were wide with wonder. 'Yes,' his whispered. The boy weighed nothing. Harry smiled at him. Finding that the rope had gone from around them, Harry set Tom down on the soft darkness beneath his feet. He did not let go of his hand.

'Harry?' a woman with red hair and green eyes.

'Mum?' Her arms were around him. Still Harry did not let go of Tom.

'It's ok,' said Lily. 'He's safe now.'

Harry turned to see that a dark haired woman had Tom's other head and was pulling him gently into her arms. _Tom's mother, _thought Harry. He let go and both mother and child flared into images of light and slipped away.

'Thank you.' It seemed to reach him through all his senses. He heard it, saw it written in letters of fire, smelt cinnamon and roses, tasted honey and felt the warmth of an embrace but there were other communications he could not even begin to describe and a feeling of limitless joy.

'Hello Harry.' His father. Another embrace.

'Am I dead then?'

'No,' said Lily. 'Now you are alive. But you are alive on earth too. If you stop now your life will be like the first two chapters of a wonderful but unfinished book. There will be no more adventures. No possibility of children.'

'You want me to go back' said Harry, disappointed.

'Your friends would miss you,' said James. 'For us you are already here.'

'Then why have I not been sucked in?' asked Harry remembering what Miranda had said.

'Because balance has been restored,' said Lily. She turned to James.

'Tom's mother also died for her child,' said James. Sympathetic magic tied her sacrifice to Lily's and you to Tom. Tom had severed all his ties to heaven and so Tom could not die. But, when he tried to kill you, neither did you.' He shook his head. 'This is such a simplification as to take it far from the truth. Tom had managed to bend a lot of rules, but very simple magic is tough.'

'It's the best explanation we can give you,' said in Lily. 'Now that Tom's mother has taken him home, he's not going back. He _has_ died and you can live.'

'Is that what you want?' asked Harry and then smiled as he realised how foolish the question was. 'I love you,' he said and it was as like the thank you that Tom and his mother had given him as the sun is like a candle.

When he opened his eyes he was standing on sand with dawn in the sky overhead and a warm wind, that smelt that of the sea, playing with his hair. Facing the wind, Harry began to walk over bare sand and then through tufts of maram grass. He climbed through pale sand trails between dunes, onward through the beautiful morning until the scream of a gull startled him. This place was no longer a desert. When he looked down it was to find a small brown creature perched on a tussock. 'Pettigrew,' breathed Harry and the rat fled.

Without thinking Harry chased after it through the dunes and he was becoming breathless before he realised that the rat was not trying to elude him He stopped. 'Ok, Pettigrew, what do you want?' The rat appeared and pulled at his cloak with its teeth. Harry permitted himself to be led among the dunes.

Finally they had reached their objective. A warped wooden frame, propped at an angle against a dune, with a sparkling web-like cloth across it and in front of it someone sleeping on the sand. Harry knelt and turned the man onto his back He wasn't at all surprised to recognise Sirius Black. The rat set its teeth into Sirius's sleeve and made as if to pull him through the doorway. Something remained of his contact with the web, some brief echo of certainty, and Harry understood. He kissed Sirius's sleeping face before struggling to lift him. He discovered that he could not pass through the doorway and instead managed to balance his godfather in front of the door and then to push him through it. He hoped that Sirius would be alive when he emerged into the Department of Mysteries but, if he had gone to join Lily and James, Harry didn't mind. At least he would no longer be caught between.

The rat twitched its tail and scampered off. There had been no trace of silver about the creature. When he looked up, Harry could see the sea.

As he ambled down towards the water he discovered that the landscape had changed. High, stone cliffs now rose behind him and great rocks lay in pools of water in the sand around his feet. _Somewhere,_ Harry thought, _this place is real. _He paused to consider his reflection in one of the pools and when he stood it was to observe an old, purple with gold stars clad, bearded gentleman throwing stones into the calm sea.

'Professor Dumbledore?'

'Hello Harry. Have you come to take me home?'

'You're dead?' asked Harry bewildered.

'Oh, I'm afraid so,' replied Dumbledore. 'I was getting old, you know. Just couldn't take the excitement.' His eyes twinkled as he made himself comfortable on a rock. 'What happened?'

Harry sat down on the sand and told him. 'So what are you doing?' he asked when he had finished.

'Letting go,' said Dumbledore. 'This one, for example, he showed Harry a small flat, black stone, 'is never having as many sweets as I would have liked as a child.' He bent to skim the stone expertly over the water. 'And this one,' he pointed at the rock on which he had been sitting, 'is leaving you with the Dursleys.' Dumbledore bent and began to excavate the sand from in front of it with his hands.

After a while Harry took off his cloak and helped Dumbledore to roll the heavy, slippery, sandy mass into the ocean.

'Am I forgiven?' asked Dumbledore.

'I'm still angry with you, but I know you meant well,' said Harry.

'Growing up with the Dursleys is part of who you are,' said Dumbledore. 'Growing up in our world you might have become as arrogant as . . .'

'My father?' suggested Harry.

'I was going to say Draco Malfoy, but yes. If your father had been more like you things would have been very different. Although perhaps not better. But still, I'm sorry Harry.'

'It's ok. Although it's not ok how much I'm going to miss you.' Dumbledore reached out to run his hand through Harry's hair. Despite the effort of moving the rock, the professor looked younger than he had when they had started. 'Have you any idea how I'm to get back?' Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked rueful. 'Perhaps Hogwarts is not quite as excellent as I had assumed,' he replied. 'How did you leave before?'

'I think the "Star of Grace" helped but I don't have it anymore.'

'What was the "Star of Grace"?'

'It was a blue stone, sir . . .'

'What was it here, Harry?'

'A pentacle of blue fire, but how . . . ?' Dumbledore waited while Harry thought.

Harry thought about the rope that he had made and he thought about what James had said about 'Sympathetic Magic', and then he smiled. Dumbledore handed him a flat stone, as round as a coin, with tiny sparkling fragments of mica in it and Harry began to sketch a pentacle in the sand at his feet. He was just admiring his work when a wave caught him and knocked him off his feet. When he surfaced it was to find Miranda, up to her knees, in the water beside him, while Dumbledore stood just a little further up the beach with his robes held high to reveal a pair of socks that could perhaps best be described as "in the worst possible taste". Both of them were laughing at him. Harry grinned, stood up and then, somehow, tripped over his own feet to fall face first into the water and then strong hands were holding his shoulders, holding him up. Harry pushed the water from his eyes and opened them.

'_Legilimens!'_

It wasn't Dumbledore but Snape who stood before him. Harry did not resist the Legilimency but allowed Snape to check through his memories, including his most recent ones. Harry thought he detected a response to that of Miranda and Dumbledore but the spell was lifted before he could examine it. 'It's Potter all right,' said Snape. Harry looked up to find that the person holding him was Mad eye Moody, who helped him to his feet. Snape took his own cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around him. Harry was surprised to discover that he had been naked. Then he saw that he was standing in the glass coffin. It was still part full of cloudy potion and around it were the remains of three thick iron bands. Someone had not wanted it opened. 'Come on,' said Snape, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulling him towards the door of what Harry saw, to his astonishment, was a store-cupboard. Around him were shelves laden with mops, buckets, washing up liquid, tea cups and toilet paper.

'What?' said Harry.

'Harry Potter,' said Snape 'was something that the Ministry did not want to deal with. Harry Potter's body, even if it wasn't possessed by Voldemort, was something that could be made subject to examination or simply held in storage. Indefinitely.'

The door was opened and Percy Weasley hissed 'All clear, come on!'

Harry was dragged through the door and along a corridor. 'How did you find me?' he asked.

It was Percy who answered. 'The coffin was being kept in the Department of Mysteries. Professor Dumbledore persuaded the Wizengamot to issue an order for the opening of the coffin so the Ministry transfigured and hid it. Dobby managed to persuade some the house-elves at the Ministry to look for you. An individual called "Slowly" reported overhearing that the coffin was in a storage cupboard. It would have been incredibly difficult to extricate you from the Ministry in London. However I recently discovered that, in order to facilitate housekeeping and to ensure that the Mandarins never run out of toilet paper, all Ministry store cupboards are magically linked. All I had to do was write out a requisition form for a "Harry Potter, one of" to be issued in Glasgow and get the Minister to sign it, and there you were: untransfigured in the cupboard.' They reached an elevator. Percy opened the door and Moody, Snape and Harry entered. 'I'll clear up,' said Percy, heading back down the corridor. The doors shut and the elevator started to rise.

The doors opened to what looked like a sheet of dirty transparent plastic but wasn't. Snape pulled him though it into what was definitely a public convenience. Behind him Harry could see only a dirty wall. 'It's ok. I can walk,' he muttered. Snape strode ahead and Harry followed him past the cubicles, through doors and up a narrow flight of steps and then he was blinking in the early morning sunlight, on the pavement in front of a handsome Victorian building that claimed to belong to Glasgow Tourist Information. Snape's arm was back around his shoulders, hurrying him towards a familiar, old fashioned, maroon motor vehicle. He was bundled into the front passenger seat and the car door was shut. Moody, who had followed them up the steps, had disappeared. Harry fastened his seatbelt as Snape got into the car and drove off and in minutes they were on the motorway. 'Hogwarts?' asked Harry.

'Home first,' replied Snape.


	15. Transitions

Harry opened his eyes to the sound of wiper blades pushing water from the windscreen, the rattle of rain on the car's body and the steady growl of the engine. Up ahead the narrow road twisted, through grey veils, down the side of the mountain. They were somewhere in the highlands.

"Home first" Snape had said and Harry wondered why.

As he straightened in his seat and pulled Snape's cloak more tightly around him, the professor glanced at him and then returned his attention to the road. Harry wanted to ask questions but was afraid of disturbing the fragile peace. It looked like late summer. Harry wondered how long he'd been kept under wraps in the ministry and decided that it was a reasonable question. 'How long?' he croaked.

'Twenty-five days,' said Snape.

_Some catching up to do _thought Harry. He was relieved that it wasn't longer. 'Thank you for coming after me.'

Snape glanced at him again. 'There's a flask in the glove compartment.'

Harry found and opened the flask: hot chocolate with a scent of orange. Whatever the problem with drinking things offered by Snape had been, it no longer applied and Harry drank thirstily. He had put the flask away, closed his eyes, and was letting himself drift off again when Snape spoke. 'Tell me what happened. Start with Mr. Weasley's disappearance. Did you realise that Draco Malfoy was possessed?'

Cocooned in the warmth of the passenger seat of the big car, Harry felt very detached from his experiences and he responded easily to Snape's soft voice, but when the questions finally stopped, Harry had one of his own. 'Did you put Veritaserum in the hot chocolate, professor?'

'Yes.'

_Git _thought Harry without animosity. He had another question. 'Draco Malfoy, the others who've lost family; they can't be very pleased with you?'

'We used a penseive to show them my memory of events,' replied Snape, still quietly. 'All of Hogwarts saw Lucius Malfoy walk to his death in the throne room, willingly, to protect his child. Not one of the bereaved doubts that, knowing what Lucius Malfoy did, every person in that room would have been ready to do the same. For purebloods, kin is everything. It was believed that Sirius Black had betrayed the order precisely because he had already betrayed his own family.'

'Has anything been heard of Sirius?' Harry dared ask.

'Nothing, but neither has there been any public mention of Pettigrew. The Ministry is in trouble and most unwilling to face further embarrassment. In the name of security, silencing orders are being issued and magically enforced. As this enforcement extends even to Aurors, this is causing a great deal of dissatisfaction.'

'What about you sir?' asked Harry. Snape had ended up in Azkaban after Voldemort's first fall and Harry wondered why the Ministry hadn't locked him up again. Especially given his part in events.

'They believe that I am still bound by the terms of my release from Azkaban.' His voice had become very cold. 'Controllable.'

_As a snake_ thought Harry, wondering if he could ask about those terms. 'And you're not?' he said.

'No.'

Harry waited and eventually Snape continued: 'I have made a "Full Disclosure" and all charges have been withdrawn although, as yet, Fudge and his friends are unaware of this.'

'You told them about Jane?'

Snape considered him for a few seconds. 'I told Moody and Shacklebolt about her, although I have allowed them to believe her to be a muggle and still at university. You will not give any indication to the contrary or use her name.'

Harry decided to leave well alone. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

'Wake up, Potter.' Snape's hand was on his shoulder. Although he had been awake, Harry blinked sleepily.

Snape got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Harry rubbed his eyes and got out. The cold, blowing rain cleared away the cobwebs and he was fully awake when he stepped, shivering, though the terrace door. There was a fire in the hearth and Harry homed in on it.

'Wotcher, Harry,' said Tonks, standing up. 'Nice punk look. How d'you feel?'

'Ok,' said Harry pulling the cloak tighter around his nakedness.

'There are clothes in your room,' said Tonks.

'And you need a shower,' said Snape authoritatively. 'Your hair's disgusting.'

Upstairs, in the bathroom, Harry considered his reflection. His hair was a mess, stuck up at all angles, but that wasn't what made him look different. It was the absence of glasses; and Harry could see perfectly. He wondered what Wormtail had done to him and decided to ask Snape.

He felt a lot better after a hot shower.

In his room, on his bed, Harry found a string tied, brown paper parcel that held school clothes and a plastic bag from a major supermarket chain containing a new pair of shoes. Harry got dressed and went downstairs to find Snape, Tonks and 'Madeye' Moody talking in the library, waiting for him.

'Sit down,' said Snape, pulling the chair out from the desk.

Harry sat down.

Moody pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from his robes and put them on the desk in front of him. 'You'll need to sign this,' he said gruffly.

Harry read through the parchment and then he read through it again. 'You want to adopt me?' he demanded.

'Not me, Snape.'

_Polyjuice _thought Harry, _a really bad dream . . . _

Snape stared back at him. 'Even if you are not possessed by the Dark Lord, the Ministry of Magic will want to control you. As you are a minor, the simplest way to achieve this is to have you declared a ward of the Ministry.' He raised his hand to forestall Harry's interruption. 'While, I am sure that the Weasleys would be delighted to take you, that would require a hearing, to be held at the Ministry's convenience, and in the meantime the Ministry would have you. You might not survive.' Snape let that sink in. 'Magically, however, I am already your guardian. Because law follows magic and this is merely a formality, once this is signed, Ministry archives will automatically align themselves with the new information, unless they are actively prevented. They won't be looking for this. It will pass, in the muggle phrase, under their radar and it will remove the most obvious legal pretext for interference.'

'Harry was finding it difficult to speak. 'Are you sure that you really want to do this?'

'No, Potter, I am entirely sure that I do not want to do this,' growled Snape irascibly. It is, nonetheless, necessary for your continued survival. Sign the bloody thing.'

Harry stared at the form. 'My godfather may be alive.'

'Doubtless,' said Snape, 'you would prefer it to be Black, but that would still require a hearing. You claimed to be Slytherin. Why don't you tell me why that would be a bad idea?'

'He was innocent! They know that,' said Harry and Snape's jaw tightened with irritation. 'They'd kill him wouldn't they?'

'He is guilty of escaping from Azkaban, said Snape. No, they would not kill him. Not when they could return him to Azkaban and use him to ensure that you do exactly what they want.'

Harry stared at the parchment. 'I've done what I was supposed to,' he said. 'Voldemort's gone. Why would you care what happens to me?'

'Blood magic . . . ,' began Snape.

'But it was "Sympathetic Magic",' interrupted Harry, 'I lived because Tom Riddle's mother also died to protect him.'

'What?' interjected Moody. Not for the first time Harry was aware that he had said completely the wrong thing but, as quickly as Moody had drawn his wand, both Snape and Tonks had moved to defend him.

'I told you,' snapped Harry, 'I'm not going to be the next Dark Lord. I saw where it got Tom Riddle. You can sod that for a lark.' Bemusedly, Moody lowered his wand.

Snape swung around to face Harry. 'We have discussed this,' he said dangerously. 'Miranda's runes were designed to protect her children. At her daughter's request I took you in. You were clothed and fed. I actually carried you in here. Ritual acts performed accidentally but the intention was to protect you and the house recognised you.'

'He will obey me' Snape had said on the night of his arrival, and Harry had. Even to the extent of missing dinner.

'You will protect him,' had been Dumbledore's reply.

But Snape had always protected him, Harry realised, even as he hated him, because of a promise made to Dumbledore. And now the professor was again subject to some sort of magical coercion, which couldn't be too happy about, and Harry didn't want to be hated. 'You don't have to do this,' he said. 'I can leave and it won't be your problem any more.'

Tonks gave Harry a thoughtful look and then stepped in front of Snape. She slipped her hands behind his neck. When he met her eyes, she moved to stand very close to him, still gazing into his eyes, and to Harry's surprise, Snape didn't try to push her away. Harry wondered if Snape needed the spell for Legilimency. Tonks behaviour was clearly some sort of challenge and, very slowly, she began to smile.

Finally Snape blinked, and turned away from her. 'Whether your mother's Blood Magic prompted Miranda's runes to recognise you or, after the fact, tied into that recognition, Sympathetic Magic would strongly reinforce it. Thus, at present, the conjoined magic of three fairly powerful witches protects my child, and it would be exceptionally foolish not to accept it.'

As Moody's glance continued to switch in dismay between Tonks and the former Death Eater, Harry asked: 'You won't use this against my friends?'

'Sign the bloody thing, Harry,' said Tonks.

Harry signed the bloody thing. He watched as Snape appended his own spiky signature and then rolled the scroll up and deposited it in a carved wooden box on one of the shelves. 'Congratulations, Harry,' said Tonks.

'What about this "Astral Projection"?' demanded Moody.

Snape turned back, his eyes calculating. 'Perhaps you should attempt it now, Potter,' he suggested.

Harry sat back in the chair and, breathing deeply, closed his eyes. He tried to escape from his body as he had done so easily before, but nothing happened. 'I can't.' he told them.

'Balance has been restored,' mused Snape. 'Perhaps it's as well. Even without Potter's particular history, such an ability would tend to make people uncomfortable.'

'Well, Harry's been "at home" about twenty-five minutes,' said Tonks. 'I should think that Magical Law Enforcement will have finished turning over the Dursleys by now.' She smirked. 'This might be a good time to return to the Ministry,' she suggested, taking her colleague's arm. Moody looked dubious but allowed himself to be steered out. 'See you later,' she called from the door.

'_Supposedly an extremely powerful magical protection. If you don't mind having your life turned upside down,' _Jane had said with regard to the talisman. _She'd been right, _thought Harry.

'What was all that about?' Harry heard Moody demand from the next room. 'I thought I warned you about swallowing anything that bastard . . .' Snape looked amused.

'He's one of only four people who recognise me whatever I look like,' said Tonks, 'and he's the only one who doesn't give a damn.'

'I'm old, I'm not dead,' grumbled Moody and then Harry heard the terrace door open and close.

Harry stood up and faced Snape. 'How do we get back to Hogwarts?' he asked.

'Come on.'

Harry followed Snape back to the car and got in. As they drove off Harry asked 'Where did you come across the expression "under the radar", professor?' _And the explosives_? he asked himself. Several minutes passed until Harry was sure that he wasn't going to get an answer and then Snape grimaced.

'Many years ago, some of my then colleagues were sufficiently unwise to "bait" some muggle troops. The muggles had the advantage of numbers, modern weaponry and, perhaps more to the point, sobriety. Further, being soldiers, they were not subject the sort of paralysis that usually prevails when people are unable to comprehend sufficiently quickly that they are being attacked. When the "hunting party" failed to return, I was sent to determine exactly what was detaining them. When I arrived, the muggles waiting for me.'

'Oh shit,' whispered Harry. 'Then what?'

'We argued,' said Snape. 'Starting arguments is, apparently, a common method of interrogation amongst muggles, but they had already guessed much. They soon decided that the Dark Lord not only "ill informed" but also "a bit of a prat".' The grimace had become a rather twisted approximation of a sardonic smile. _Arsenic poisoning_ thought Harry. 'About the only thing more annoying than their patronisation was the "Monty Python". To ignore them was to be threatened with "the comfy chair" or subjected to "the Parrot Sketch". Worse, two of them had sufficient magic to produce minor explosions with a wand. What Salazar Slytherin had done, by persuading the Founders to accept only those who had demonstrated magical ability, was to allow those who's magic stayed dormant to remain in the muggle community. I am unable to surmise whether of not this was his intention but evolutionary theory and statistics, both of which the muggles were kind enough to explain, would suggest that there are likely to be many more witches and wizards amongst the muggle community than there are in the magical world.'

Snape and Dumbledore had spoken about this on the night of Harry's arrival at the cottage. '"It prevents war," Snape had said then. When the professor continued, his voice had become very soft. 'These soldiers also explained the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction. The more dangerous a creature is: the more important are the rituals that prevent battle. Our species, muggle and magic, have become too dangerous for open warfare. It was decided that revealing the true existence of magic would be unutterably stupid. I helped them to tidy up the mess and then we set about devising some effective "disinformation" for our respective superiors. This was before Riddle's use of the Dark Arts and search for immortality had eroded most of his mind as well as his humanity and I was appalled to discover that I was able to mislead him. Someone I had been naive enough to call "Master" was less infallible than my own father. Make no mistake, Potter, I would much have preferred to continue to believe what I had been taught, but I could not and there could be no going back.' Snape paused. 'I don't have to warn you of the consequences of repeating any of this?'

'No sir.' Harry shook his head. 'But if there are witches and wizards among muggles wouldn't they do magic? Especially if they really needed to? I mean they could say a lot of things were just luck but what about stuff that goes against physics?'

'Miracles' said Snape dryly. 'Magic blamed on angels, insanity or lies.'

_That would fit _thought Harry. 'The soldiers, they provided the explosives?

'Yes.'

Harry thought about the Dursleys and they way that they reacted to the thought of magic. 'But, magic,' he asked, 'weren't they afraid?'

The sardonic smile was back. 'I was advised that there was a "fuckwit in Washington with his finger on the button" another in Moscow and another in "Number Ten" all of whom came a poor second to the barmaid of a pub called the "Red Dragon" and that "a lot of bad-ass bloody fairies from a second rate pantomime" weren't even on the list.'

Harry stifled a giggle and settled back to think about that. Just as he was contemplating going back to sleep, Snape spoke again. 'You will recall the spell-work that we did on the car?'

'Yes,' said Harry, cautiously.

There had been a great many spells, all so minor as to be undetectable, and Harry hadn't seen the point of most of them. Nor had Snape explained the potions with which he had replaced the car's fluids, although he had appeared very pleased with himself. Harry had busied himself with applying the viscous liquid that Snape had supplied by way of polish and trying to stay out of the way of the unnaturally happy sod.

'The crossroads on the Hogwarts road,' said Snape, tapping the centre boss of the steering wheel, _'Vade!'_ and, in sudden sunshine, that was where they were.

Despite himself, Harry was impressed. 'The whole is more than the sum of the parts,' murmured Snape as he stopped the car. 'Get out.'

As Harry obeyed, Professors Hooch and Sinistra flew out of the trees, each carrying a second broom.

Harry recognised his Firebolt in Hooch's hand. He accepted it gratefully, mounted and took off. Looking down, he noticed that the car had disappeared, and that Snape had the fourth broom, and then he was following Hooch, whose flying skills he realised that he had underestimated, under the darkness of the trees.

They flew into sunshine over the lake. Low and fast they swept over the sparkling surface until Hooch led them to a stop on a sandy, deserted beach, where they dismounted. 'Well done, Harry,' said Hooch. She smirked. 'And congratulations, both of you.'

'Congratulations,' murmured Sinistra, avoiding everyone's eyes.

Snape gave them both a dark look and reached into his robes. 'Invisibility potion. Six minutes only,' he explained, handing Harry a phial of purplish liquid.

Hooch muttered a brief spell and Harry's Firebolt flashed into invisibility. Harry drank the vile contents and then held out the vial to Snape. As his hand faded from view, for a moment, the little bottle appeared to be floating in midair.

'Stay close!' snapped Snape, mounting his broom and then Harry was following him, up out of the trees and towards the castle. Flying invisibly felt weird but rather enjoyable and Harry pursued Snape as if he were a snitch. He soon realised that they were headed not for the castle itself but for the sheer cliff below it. Just as it appeared that Snape would fly into the cliff face, the professor vanished. Harry slowed but continued forward to discover the professor waiting for him on a small, ballustraded terrace.

'Leave it there,' said Snape, leaning his own broom against the raw stone. Harry obeyed and watched as visibility crept from his fingertips up his arm. This was less weird than disgusting. 'Hurry up!' said Snape and Harry hurried up, through wooden doors, into a plain but comfortable sitting room. A noise behind him caused him to turn and discover that the doorway was now a stone wall and Merlin only knew where Harry's Firebolt was. 'You can have it back when I am satisfied with your schoolwork.'

'Not before NEWTs then?'

'Probably not.'

_Sneaky Slytherin . . . _thought Harry, realising that now, unfortunately, Snape had that right. His guardian was touching the spines of books in a bookcase in what appeared to be a predetermined order until, in the tradition of mystery movies, the shelves slid aside to reveal a dark passage. Harry followed Snape in and the bookcase closed behind him.

What light there was now came from strange looking lichen growing in the joints of the stone-work and he could hear, rather than see, Snape walking ahead. The passage ended in a steep spiral staircase, the steps extending both up and down, but Harry could hear Snape's footsteps and started upwards. He was becoming dizzy by the time that he reached a narrow, arched doorway that disappeared behind him immediately he had stepped through it.

Harry found himself outside the open door of the Headmaster's office and went in.

Professor McGonagall sat at what had been the Headmaster's desk. 'Hello Mr. Potter.' Although clearly tired, she seemed pleased to see him. 'How are you?'

'I'm fine,' said Harry, 'and Tom Riddle won't be coming back. Ever.'

'We heard,' said McGonagall nodding thoughtfully, 'and I'm sorry about the Veritaserum, but we needed to report that we had taken all precautions. "The Prophet" is being as idiotic as ever. Oh well, it's good to have you back. And well done.' She smiled 'I believe that you'll find your friends out by the lake Mr. Potter.'

'What do I tell them about the adoption?' asked Harry.

'That Albus Dumbledore was a devious old scoundrel with a sugar habit, Mephistophelean tendencies and a deeply warped sense of humour?' suggested Snape. 'De mortuis nil nisi bonum, after all.'

'How very true,' murmured a familiar voice and Harry spun round to where Dumbledore's portrait held place of honour on the wall. The painter had captured the familiar sparkle in the former Headmaster's blue eyes. 'Hello Harry. Very well done indeed.' Dumbledore appeared to be weighing him up. 'May I offer you both my sincerest congratulations?' he concluded smugly. Taking this as a dismissal, Harry nodded and left.

As he walked down through the school, he was strongly reminded of his second year after the discovery of his ability to talk Parseltongue. Younger children gawped and fled while older students rigorously ignored him, even some of the Gryffindors. "Seriously evil wizard coming through," the twins had said. He found himself grinning. Molly Weasley would not lose her children to Voldemort as she had lost her brothers. The Dark Lord was gone. Harry had done it.

As he reached the entrance hall, there was a sudden, punishing explosion of light. 'Creevey,' murmured Harry reasonably, as he blinked away the afterimages, 'do that again and I'll hex your eyeballs out through your ears. If I'm in a bad mood it won't just be your eyeballs.'

There was a startled 'Eep!' and when he could see again there was no sign of the photographer. Harry walked out into the sunshine.

He found them in the shade of a tree. As he approached they turned warily to face him but did not get up.

'Harry?'

Ginny looked scared.

'That's me,' said Harry dropping to the grass beside them.

What happened to you Harry?' asked Hermione. 'What happened to your glasses?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'Something Pettigrew did I think.' He told them most of what he had told Snape. When he reached the part with the Dementor, Ginny slipped her arm around him.

'Well done, Harry,' Hermione told him finally. This was echoed by many of the DA, who had gathered on the grass around them while Harry told his tale, as had most of the Inquisitorial Squad who were now whispering amongst themselves. Draco Malfoy's grey eyes showed nothing of his feelings.

Harry stretched out on his back to enjoy the sunshine and ignored the whispering. _Dark Lords don't sunbathe _he told himself. The warmth was soporific. He had decided to save the details of his escape from the Ministry for later. It would be better if Fudge did not find out about Percy's innovations in Ministry Housekeeping. He didn't know what to say about the adoption. He wasn't actually sure that he believed it himself, let alone how he felt about it. Apart, that was, from a profound hope that Snape and Tonks would remain friendly. He would have to ask her what that had been about back at the cottage.

_Home? _thought Harry wonderingly. His summer 'at home' had been the best that he could remember, even with the former Potions Master's acerbic presence. It had never previously occurred to him that the man could be funny.

'Shit,' said Ron. Harry sat up and looked around.

Heading towards them, with an escort of Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Officers, was Dolores Umbridge. Her arrival was very different from her departure: an arrogant little strut. 'Where's Peeves when you want him?' Harry murmured.

He fixed his face into a pleasant smile.

&

.  
**Authors note: **a sardonic smile is a symptom of arsenic poisoning and 'de mortuis nil nisi bonum' means 'speak nothing but good of the dead'.


	16. Goodbye Madame Umbridge

Harry waited as Umbridge and her small procession trouped around the lake to stand in front of him. Behind the toad-like former 'Inquisitor' Harry recognised the two Magical Law Enforcement officers that had attempted to take him from Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. Neither looked friendly. Harry thought he recognised one of the three Aurors as the man that Tonks had called to at the station. Styles? Nearly a month ago, to Harry it felt like yesterday.

'Mr. Potter, how nice to see you again,' simpered Umbridge. Are you well?'

Harry stared at her. 'Oh dear,' said Umbridge. 'In a bit of a snit are we? She tut-tutted at his impoliteness. 'Now then, as you have unfortunately been thrown out by your family, under Ministry Regulation 17d for the Protection of Minors (amended), I am authorised to take you into Ministry Custody for your own protection.' The old toad was clearly enjoying herself immensely. 'Get up, dear,' she said. 'You're coming with us.'

'I have a home,' said Harry flatly.

'With muggles,' murmured Umbridge in saccharine tones, 'who can not and should not be expected to cope with a young wizard; especially one such as you. However we, at the Ministry, do have that ability. Now, this is for your own good, Mr. Potter, so try not to be difficult.'

'Then you've given up wanting to use Cruciatus on me?' said Harry.

'Still that problem with the truth, I see.' Umbridge's voice had sharpened slightly. 'Skelper, take away his wand.'

One of the Aurors that Harry did not recognise, an older man with a distinct pate, moved forward and Harry got up quickly and stepped back amongst the members of the Defence Association who rose to their feet around him, as did the Inquisitorial Squad. Harry noticed that Ron had drawn his wand and was aware of other drawn wands. 'Put it away,' he whispered, seeing Snape's dark figure sweeping across the lawn towards them. Unwillingly Ron obeyed but the behaviour of his friends had not gone unnoticed and Skelper was being cautious.

'I don't have a problem with the truth,' said Harry. 'You do. 'Voldemort _was_ back. But you only wanted to know where Professor Dumbledore was and you were prepared to use an unforgivable on me to find out.'

Umbridge's mouth opened and closed and Styles came to stand beside Harry. 'Those are extremely serious accusations,' he said. 'Even if you're not of age yet, you can get into a great deal of trouble . . .'

'It's the truth.' Harry objected.

'Well, that's hardly likely is it?' said Umbridge. 'Unfortunately,_ if for no other reason than misguided loyalty_ his friends are like to support him in his allegations.'

Harry drew a sharp breath. _What was she implying? Confundment? Imperius?_ Suddenly Harry knew what it was like to be too angry to speak.

The young Auror beside him smiled. 'I understand that Draco Malfoy was a member of your Inquisitorial Squad. Perhaps he can tell us what happened.'

'Certainly,' said Umbridge.

Smirking nastily at Harry, Malfoy came forward. 'Hello Draco,' said Styles, grasping the young Slytherin's shoulder. 'How's it going?'

'Hello Adam,' replied Malfoy. 'Fine thanks. Do you know yet when the Ministry's going to let go of my money?'

'In view of your previous assistance, Draco, dear,' gushed Umbridge, 'I can see no reason why the matter should not be investigated quite soon. In fact I can promise it.'

'That's what I thought,' said Malfoy turning back to the blonde Auror. 'Potter's telling the truth. She was going to use the Cruciatus, quite excited about it in fact, and she boasted about having sent Dementors to attack him.'

Umbridge's pasty face was darkening with rage. 'You little ingrate. I gave you power and you . . .'

'And you expected my allegiance?' By contrast, Malfoy was far paler than usual. 'I am a Malfoy and my own master and I have no doubt that my property will be returned to me as soon as you and your cronies are thrown out of office.'

'Is that what he promised you?' demanded Umbridge furiously. 'Because if so, let me tell you now that he is not going to be able to deliver.'

'Potter promised me nothing,' said Malfoy. 'Although - that Decree about litigants having personally to lodge a hundred and fifty galleons with the Ministry before commencing any legal case? To prevent vexatious litigation I was told. Well, Potter lent it to me. Didn't even ask what it was for.' Malfoy sneered. 'Why should I support you?' He turned to the Auror. 'I'll be happy to answer any further questions that you might have.'

'Perhaps Madam Umbridge only intended to frighten young Potter?' suggested Styles.

The former Inquisitor had puffed herself up with rage and indignation. 'Quite. Quite,' she muttered, struggling to get a grip of her temper. 'It proved quite impossible to reason with Potter. Throughout the year he consistently interrupted, lied and generally displayed his disrespect for my authority. Well he'll learn.' Umbridge's wand twitched in her fingers.

'What?' demanded Harry. 'I must not tell lies?' He thrust out his right hand. 'You had me cut that into my own hand and I wasn't lying.'

Styles took Harry's hand and examined the scar and then turned back to Umbridge. 'I was under the impression that the torture of children was illegal,' he said.

'He needed discipline,' spat Umbridge. 'I saw to it that he got it.'

'Our byelaws do, indeed, prohibit torture,' said Snape in a quiet, deadly voice. Only Harry had noticed his arrival. 'I have therefore to inform you that, as you were in breach of the law, Hogwarts will be registering a complaint.'

'We can change the law,' ground out Umbridge, all trace of girlishness gone.

'Indeed,' said Snape's silkily. 'But you did not change the law, you broke it. You committed a criminal act.' Snape turned to the Auror. 'Mr. Styles, I am asking for the arrest of Dolores Umbridge.'

'You . . . you Death Eater,' croaked Umbridge, her eyes bulging with self-righteous fury. You'll never get out of Azkaban . . . you'll never see daylight again. Arrest him.'

Snape crossed his arms and snorted with derision and Dolores Umbridge tried to hex him.

_Bad move Umbridge _thought Harry delightedly as a large toad struggled out of a collapsed tent of floral robes.

'You can't just do that!' yelped one of the MLE officers drawing his wand and finding himself outnumbered by the DA and the IS. Malfoy looked self satisfied and Crabbe and Goyle delighted and then, exchanging glances, Crabbe and Goyle put away their wands and flexed their knuckles.

'If you insist, I suppose I could also pickle it for you,' said Snape but, as he glided towards the toad, it fled clumsily into the lake. Snape watched it go. 'I suggest that you remove _Umbridge_ immediately from the lake and arrest her,' he said.

'Who the hell do you think you are to . . . You're under arrest,' spluttered Skelper. Together with the two MLE officers, he advanced on Snape whose sneer appeared to have been specifically designed to infuriate and practiced frequently.

'You should be aware that Professor Snape has been cleared of all charges,' said Styles.

'What? How?'

Snape shook his head as if in disgust at their stupidity and went to stand by the water's edge. 'Again,' he said placidly, 'I must ask you to remove Umbridge from the lake.'

'You don't tell us what to do, you greasy slime ball,' snarled Skelper.

Snape did not immediately react to the insult but continued to gaze out over the lake. 'You choose not to accept my advice then?' he asked softly as he turned.

'We don't need your advice!'

'Very well,' said Snape. 'However Potter will not be going with you. We, at Hogwarts, do not feel that it would be in his best interests.' He turned as if to leave.

'_Accio Umbridge!'_ Skelper was clearly out of ideas.

A moment later he was also missing his wand which had arched from his hand to fall, with a soft plop, into the water. The surface of the lake suddenly appeared oily as if something large and fast were moving beneath it, and then a long tentacle snaked out, slapped Skelper, seized him around the waist and dragged him into the lake. Screams and splashes accompanied the Auror's alternately being thrown into the air, batted against the water's surface and, apparently, dragged over the lake bed. The other Aurors and the MLE officers raised their wands but could not risk an unfriendly spell hitting their colleague. Affecting an air of mild interest, Snape turned to watch. After a few minutes a slimy, green, weed wrapped bundle was thrown choking onto the grass.

'It can be unwise to aggravate the giant squid,' remarked Snape, 'especially just after it's eaten.'

'It ate Umbridge?' whispered Ron. Hermione looked green.

'And now if you will excuse me?' Snape gave a small bow and headed back towards the castle.

'He did that deliberately,' whispered Hermione.

'Yeah,' said Ron, 'Bloody, bloody brilliant.'

And that appeared to be the opinion of the Inquisitorial Squad along with not a few of the DA. Harry tried to comprehend what had happened. He accompanied Ron and Hermione to Charms but took in nothing of the lesson. He had just been adopted by a man who had, within the hour, quite casually murdered someone.

At the end of Charms, Harry followed Ron and Hermione down to the Dungeons, his only thought being that it would be not Snape but Madame Karnstein who would be teaching. He sat down and Hermione set her book open between them and began to explain what they had been doing in class until the door was slammed open and the former Potions Master assumed his accustomed stance at the front of the class. 'I shall be covering this lesson for Madame Karnstein who has been called away to a funeral of an aunt in Transylvania.' A sneer indicated his opinion of this excuse for absence. 'While this is not the first interment of this particular relative, we are assured that it should be the last,' he continued. 'I have been informed that you are covering basic vitalising potions.' Snape flicked his wand at the blackboard and words appeared. 'You may confer.'

Harry tried to concentrate but attempts to clear his mind gave produced only images of Umbridge hopping into the lake and of Snape staring out over it. _Had Snape's Legilimency allowed him to observe what was happening? Had he really deliberately annoyed Skelper and the MLE officers so that they would not act until it was too late? _

Harry was vaguely aware of a russet coloured mess escaping over the edge of Neville's cauldron and sliding rapidly away and up a wall to take refuge on the ceiling, where it spent the rest of the lesson making the occasional sloppy stalactite and vaguely obscene slurping noises every time that Neville attempted to get it back down, but the only thing that he seemed able to focus properly upon was Snape. By the end of the lesson Gryffindor was down thirty-five points.

'Remain behind, Potter,' said Snape.

Harry sat and waited until the Professor had closed the door and sat down at his own desk. 'You did that deliberately,' he accused. 'You murdered her.'

'I decided that her life was worth less than yours,' replied Snape smoothly. 'I assassinated her.'

Harry stared at Snape.

'Potter, amongst her other achievements, her anti-werewolf legislation requires that, during the period of the full moon, any injured werewolf, whatever the nature of the injury, is subject to confinement, without treatment, until the full moon is passed. Such confinement is also obligatory in the case of poisoning, whatever the lunar phase, for three days. She has been responsible for a number of unnecessary deaths and would, doubtless, have contrived to be responsible for others.'

_What, _Harry asked himself, _if it had been Lupin who had been the one bitten at Grimmauld Place? _'You hate werewolves,' said Harry.

'No,' replied Snape idly. 'Lycanthropy is merely an illness. I loathe Lupin.'

'Why?'

'Because he is careless of his condition and the wellbeing of others, because he despises me and because he is a coward who, despite believing that he knew the difference between right and wrong, always chose to do nothing.'

Harry steadied his breathing and achieved some measure of calm. 'Every time I think I understand you, I don't,' he said.

'Then perhaps it is your expectations that are at fault,' said Snape. 'You are thinking like a muggle. I am a wizard and a Pureblood. I have been told that certain aspects of the mindset are medieval. That may be so, but I would consider it utterly wrong not to protect the things that I believe are important. You know what I was. Many of the things that I am prepared to give credence to are different and I am also considerably more careful about reaching decisions, but I am no less ready to take action should I deem it necessary.' Harry swallowed and stared instead at the floor, at the dark lines between the flagstones, at the ancient, worn stone. For the first time his robes felt strange around him. Hogwarts felt alien and unreal. He felt strangely as though he was only pretending to be Harry Potter.

'Potter,' Snape continued more quietly, 'I have been Voldemort's Inquisitor. I have . . . cleared up after Bellatrix Lestrange. A few weeks ago I slaughtered a large number of people, some of whom I had considered friends. I have since had to deal with their children.'

Harry remembered the horrors of the throne room and Lucius Malfoy's courage and love of his son and concern for Snape. 'Lucius Malfoy knew that you were a spy?' he said.

'Certainly,' replied Snape.

'But . . . 'Harry shook his head in incomprehension. 'Then what about what he did to Ginny Weasley?'

'Voldemort was a means to an end for Lucius. When Lucius discovered that he was trapped, and needed a way out, he decided that Tom Riddle would be more amenable to persuasion than Voldemort. He was wrong as Riddle and Voldemort were, in essence, the same. The older wizard would have occupied the younger body. I think it unlikely that Lucius would otherwise have tried to harm Miss Weasley but someone had to die and Arthur Weasley had been a thorn in his side for a long time. He may even have convinced himself that choosing a child from a larger family was a compassionate act. Like muggle drugs, the use of Dark Magic is highly addictive and erodes the mind. Even so, most of the Death Eaters not only made no effort to assist in Voldemort's return but secretly opposed it hoping that he would remain disincarnate and weak until their own eventual deaths removed the life source.'

Snape stared at his hands. 'There was no other way to destroy the Dark Lord and I did what was necessary,' he said quietly. 'Do not ask me to pretend to care about Umbridge.'

That Snape might grieve for his victims in the throne room was not something that had occurred to Harry.

Snape had done what he had to and afterwards tried to rescue him. Harry wondered what would have happened to Snape had what had remained of Voldemort managed to reach him. As the Dark Lord had closed in on Snape unseen, in order to warn him of the danger, Harry had been forced to allow his astral self to overlap with Snape's body. The memory of his contact with Snape's mind had subsequently prevented him from doing anything for several minutes. Harry thought about Snape, picking his way over the rubble of the throne room, scared almost beyond reason and still utterly determined to find and rescue him and using his own anger to hide his fear, even from himself. He realised that Snape had been forced to face his own terrors and those inflicted upon him until it no longer occurred to him not to. 'Seriously messed up' had been Tonks' opinion: a damaged child who had grown into a man to whom any show of emotion was weakness. Harry was conscious that his guardian was hurting but had no idea what to do about it.

Snape stood up and went to the door. 'Potter, no witch or wizard would question a parent's right to protect their child,' he said, 'and yet Umbridge was imprudent enough to try to attack me. We may therefore assume that the Ministry is unaware of the adoption. Have you told anyone?'

'No,' said Harry.

'Then you will not.'

_Ok _thought Harry. _If that's what you want._ But this wasn't finished yet. He couldn't simply walk out.'Can you tell me what happened to my eyes?' he asked as a delaying tactic.

'It is not always possible to make permanent corrections to congenital faults magically as the subject's own magic tends to resist changes, especially to vulnerable areas such as the eyes. You however were, at the time, effectively dead and so there would not have been a problem.'

'Wonderful,' said Harry. 'I think I'd rather you didn't mention that to anyone, sir.' For a moment Harry almost believed that that he had seen the Dark Arts professor's lip twitch as though suppressing a smile and he was encouraged to ask another question. 'At the cottage,' he asked, 'what was that with Tonks.'

Black eyes considered Harry and when Snape spoke he sounded unusually reticent. 'She suggested that as Miranda had been forced to raise Jane on her own, her runes being her only magical legacy, I should try to accept your presence with better grace.' Snape turned towards the door. 'She also offered to help.'

'In what way?' asked Harry.

'I think . . . it is possible that the offer was intended as some sort of proposal.'

'You're kidding . . . I mean that's great.'

'Do you really think so? About the only thing I can say in favour of my life expectancy is that it probably exceeds yours.' Snape opened the door, ushered Harry through and then locked it behind them.

Harry found himself rubbing at his scar. 'I had thought that when Voldemort was dead it would be over,' he said.

Snape's expression of disbelief at Harry's naivety was almost comical. 'With Voldemort out of the way there are aspiring Dark Lords and Ladies coming out of the woodwork. Most of them would consider killing you to be an excellent career move.'

Harry swallowed. 'And the rest?'

'Will already be engaged in attempting to discover an effective method of control. Be very careful, Mr. Potter.' Snape turned towards the Slytherin common room and Harry began the trek back up to Gryffindor Tower.

&

'Sorry Colin, I asked Jane to sit with us,' said Hermione. 'Jane, over here.' Jane glanced up and then obediently headed down the train towards them.

'Oh, right,' said Colin, replacing the lens cap of his camera. He slid open the door of the adjacent carriage and he and his brother went in.

Harry was going home with the Weasleys for the Christmas holidays, as was Hermione. Her parents would be joining her there, so the house would be full. Jane, he supposed, was going home. 'Hi,' she said, shutting the carriage door behind her and reaching up to put her shoulder bag into the luggage rack. 'I suppose they can be a bit much.' Jane smiled faintly and Harry realised that Hermione had been lying. She had just wanted to spare Harry the Creevey brothers' photographic courtesies and Jane was well aware of this.

'This is Jane,' said Hermione, flushing slightly. 'She's in my Arithmancy class.'

'And my Transfiguration class,' added Ginny.

_That was certainly impressive for someone who had done magic for less than a year,_ thought Harry. _She must have been working hard._ 'Hello,' said Harry. 'Hufflepuff isn't it?'

'Yes.' Jane smiled and settled herself into a corner with a transfiguration textbook, while Harry felt foolish. Of course the badge on her robes would have told him her house.

'How are you finding Hogwarts?' he asked.

'It's a bloody zoo.' A sudden smile. 'I suppose I should be glad that they're all out of Basilisks.'

'Plenty of Acromantula,' said Ron cheerfully.

'Not if you stay out of the Forbidden Forest,' said Jane.

It had been a surprisingly calm few months for Harry, although there was a continuous suppressed tension that suggested the calm before the storm.

After Voldemort's fall, Dark Magicians struggling to fill what they perceived as a power vacuum had indeed seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. The Ministry of Magic's increasingly draconian counter measures and general public hysteria had fed off one another in a vicious circle. As far as possible Harry had tried to ignore the 'Prophet'. He had busied himself with catching up with his schoolwork and been pleasantly surprised when Snape had returned his Firebolt after a week with the excuse that various Slytherins required distraction.

The same week, after an uncontrolled exothermic reaction, Jane had been thrown out of OWL level 'Potions' and immediately been befriended by Neville Longbottom. 'After all,' he said, 'one fine grey powder does look pretty much like another'. Harry felt guilty about his inability to warn Neville of the reason for Snape's singling him out in Defence Against the Dark Arts but, whatever the cause; Neville's reactions were becoming dangerously fast and his new wand had made a difference. No one picked on him any more; in fact people had become wary of even making loud noises around him and Harry had been told that the Venomous Tentacula had taken to creeping out of Neville's way, to lurk nervously in corners until the young botanist had gone. Having seen Neville's spell casting he could believe it.

Girls first, they all changed into Muggle clothing: Jane into the biking gear that he had first seen her in. Seeing this, as a gesture of solidarity, Harry chose to put on the check shirt that she had bought for him. As she sat back down in the compartment, Jane began to hum 'The Lumberjack song.' Hermione raised her eyebrows and Jane shut up suddenly and stuck her nose back into her book. Conversation gave way to a game of chess between Harry and Ron. As usual, the pieces were small and polite and, also as usual, Ron won. 'Thank you,' said Harry, tapping the board gently with his wand. 'Now sod off.' The game had finished just in time as the train was approaching King's Cross Station.

With minimal baggage they were soon on the platform and Harry looked around expecting to find Arthur Weasley. He could see no sign of him although few yards away was a woman whose smart suit and bobbed hair he recognised at once. It was Tonks, as she had arrived at the cottage, although her face now resembled Jane's - a mother or perhaps an older sister. Hugging Jane, she began to ask about school in an unfamiliar, slightly husky voice. Harry realised that she was deliberately delaying, obviously waiting for someone to arrive

As the platform emptied Lupin appeared through the barrier. 'Sorry,' he said breathlessly,' Arthur Weasley couldn't get time off. 'We're to go back to Grimmauld place and he'll pick you up after work.'

'How are you?' asked Harry.

'Fine.'

It wasn't true.

Lupin looked scruffy, tired and unhappy and was now moving with a steadiness that betrayed chronic exhaustion. Harry wondered how much of Lupin's appearance related to his loss of Sirius for a second time. Harry had owled him about Sirius' return through the veil but Lupin's reply had been far from optimistic.

Tonks had picked up Jane's bag and begun to carry it along the platform for her. An amicable struggle ensued as Jane tried to take it back.

Still embarrassed to have been caught out using Jane as Creevey repellent, Hermione turned suddenly. 'Hey Jane,' she called, 'you were going to give me your e-mail address.' Jane stopped and pulled a notepad from her jacket pocket. A breeze blew her hair into her eyes and she tossed her head slightly to clear it in a gesture that Harry recognised as one of Snape's. Immediately Lupin tensed beside him.

Who's that?' asked Lupin.

'Jane Norton.' said Harry. 'New girl. We had five older students this year.' Harry began to wonder if he was wasting his time. In the aftermath of his injury and treatment at Grimmauld Place, Harry had talked in his sleep. Subsequently, Remus had wanted to know who 'Jane' was.

'She looks familiar.'

'Really?' Harry replied indifferently, picking up his own bag and starting along the platform, praying that Lupin would just forget about it. They had passed through the barrier, and were half way to the exit, when Harry heard a frantic, suddenly strangled, barking. He turned to see two men in wizard's robes dragging a large, emaciated black dog, fighting against a choke chain, through the barrier to platform 9 ¾ .

'Sirius,' whispered Harry in disbelief. Lupin turned his attention away from Jane just a heartbeat too late. Drawing his wand Harry had already begun to sprint back along the platform and then he was hurtling through the barrier. He emerged onto the platform to find Skelper and the two MLE officers waiting for him, heard an oddly solid thunk behind him and realised, rather sadly, that this was another trap and then _'Expelliamus!'_ took away his wand and _'Stupefy!' _his consciousness.

He awoke to find himself gazing upwards at Fudge and Skelper, both of whom appeared to be standing on some sort of raised platform. Something exceptionally hard was hurting the back of his neck and then Harry realised that he was lying over the rails in front of the Hogwarts express. Up on the platform Fudge was consulting his pocket watch.

'No!' choked Harry, the horror of realisation half strangling him. 'I've done nothing . . .'

'No, not yet. But you do understand, don't you, Harry?' said Fudge. 'Power corrupts. And we can afford no more Dark Lords. You are just too dangerous. We tried to protect you from yourself but you refused to cooperate. What the Wizarding world needs now is stability.' He put his watch back into his robes. 'Don't bother to struggle: the train driver can't see or hear you. I'm sorry, Harry, but this tragic accident is necessary for the safety of our kind. Goodbye Mr. Potter.'


	17. Happy ending

After the Minister had disapparated, Skelper remained on the platform patiently gazing down at him. Harry couldn't move, couldn't get up off the rails, and Hecate knew where his wand was. Rage boiled through him and then he realised that there still was something he could do.

'_Ludo!' _ Even if the barrier was closed, some of the chess pieces could fly and the knights were supposed to be good at retrieving things. He wished that they'd come and retrieve him right now.

From the train, Harry could hear the small explosions of steam and metallic creaking that generally preceded departure and wondered if there would be time. Then a shadow swept over him. There was a blur of wings overhead and a clicking of movement in the structure of station roof; as if something heavy were settling onto it and then, ethereal and thrilling, Harry heard singing. Overhead milk-pale flight- feathers, painted gold by the late evening light, edged into view. It was one of the winged women that were the chess set's bishops, now fully life size. Settling herself comfortably, she ran her fingers across the strings of her instrument and then she began to sing a mesmerising counterpoint.

The effect of the music was startling: the wizard on the platform seemed to have lost interest in anything other than the weirdly lovely cadences. Two of the winged women alighted onto the platform and, still singing, began to close in on their audience. Meanwhile strong hands were lifting Harry, arms wrapping around him and pulling him upwards into the gathering darkness of the sky just as, with an explosive burst of steam, the Hogwarts express began its journey. Harry hung above London, the cold of the downdraft making his eyes water so that the all the lights were smears of orange gold. It was beautiful but he was beginning to shiver. Harry's rescuer began to descend.

Whatever spell had been holding him was wearing off. Hearing a sound like ripping canvas from the direction of the barrier, Harry could turn his head sufficiently to see Tonks, Snape and Lupin come through it in a knot, wands drawn, to stand looking up at him. They were followed almost immediately by Hermione, Ron, and Ginny and Jane. The station rose around him and Harry was deposited gently onto his back on the platform.

'_Finite incantatum!'_ Snape was standing over him, looking lethal.

'It wasn't his fault,' protested Lupin. 'He was delirious. Some nightmare about Dementors, he was yelling for Jane to get clear. Dammit, I knew there was something odd about his reaction when he got bitten, the way he relaxed when you arrived. He was relieved to see you. And you only have to look at her. I'd have guessed anyway.'

Snape scowled at Lupin and then turned back to Harry.

'It was Sirius!' mumbled Harry as Snape dragged him to his feet. 'The bastards had Padfoot on a choke chain.'

'So you went charging off on your own,' snarled Snape.

'Sorry. I'm sorry. I was stupid!'

'You say that as though there were some likelihood of your being anything else.' Snape glanced along the platform. 'Potter, perhaps you should put away the chess set.'

'What?' said Harry 'The angels?'

'Angels?' demanded Snape. 'Those are lyres, not harps! Are you totally unafflicted by any sort of classical education? I'd have thought the names might have told you. They're sirens!'

'What?'

Snape's wand was back out. 'You lot. Sod off or else.' The siren, who had been nuzzling the neck of Fudge's fallen henchmen, sat up smirking and wiped traces of blood from her chin with the back of her hand before all four shimmered into invisibility. Snape turned back to Harry. 'You cannot feed people who annoy you to your playthings.'

'What about Umbridge?'

'Umbridge was not required to answer questions.'

Snape strode down the platform and dropped a coin onto the floor. A twitch of his wand turned it into a small cage. Moments later a rat was being dropped into it. Having spent several detentions dissecting small creatures for potions ingredients, Harry wondered what the future held in store for the transfigured Auror. Snape caught Harry's expression. 'Transfigured materials react unpredictably in potions; as you should be aware by now. Really Potter, have you learnt nothing?'

Tonks had been muttering into a hand mirror. 'The Ministry are trying to take over Hogwarts. If they gain access to the school's records they'll find out about you and Jane and Harry. I'm to call a meeting of the Order,' she told Snape just as Madeye Moody appeared.

'Take the children to Grimmauld Place,' said Snape. 'Jane, go with them and then stay out of the way.' He picked up the cage containing the rat and disapparated.

'Well this is certainly better than using the Underground,' murmured Lupin as they all piled into the magically altered ancient red Mercedes.

'It was Sirius,' protested Harry.

'Perhaps,' said Lupin.

'How else would they know about Padfoot?' demanded Harry.

Dark looks were exchanged. 'Someone has been talking to the Ministry,' said Moody. He turned to Jane. 'I seem to remember being told that you were a muggle,' he said.

'Alastair,' said Tonks, easing out into a stream of traffic, 'before you say anything unfortunate, the troll's leg umbrella stand is in the attic. It would be no effort at all to find it.'

Moody chuckled.

'Pardon,' said Harry.

'Well,' said Lupin 'the last time Sirius upset Snape, Tonks put him head first into the umbrella stand and kicked it up and down the hall.'

'Tonks did that?' said Ginny.

'Tonks is a Metamorphmagus,' replied Moody. 'She once took on a young troll and won.'

'It fell off a roof,' Tonks said between her teeth.

Hermione turned to Jane. 'Professor Snape's your father?'

'Yes,' said Jane softly.

Apparently accidentally, Hermione elbowed Ron who gasped and rubbed his ribs. Harry wondered what Ron had been about to say. 'There was a contract, apparently,' he offered, wondering what that meant.

'Don't be daft Harry. That would mean that they were betrothed. Apart from anything else, the terms of a betrothal are for life; even in the case of divorce, and sorry,' Ron turned to Jane, 'but it's pretty obvious you're muggleborn.

'And he's adopted Harry,' said Jane.

Looking around him, a part of Harry was almost inclined to regret the absence of a camera. 'Thanks Jane,' he muttered.

_Your friends – your problem _said the look on Jane's face. She had a large Charms textbook too.

'You might have warned Neville,' reproached Ginny finally.

'He knows,' replied Jane, lowering her book. 'He borrowed Harry's cloak and ambushed my father outside his rooms. Hit him with "Petrificus" and then tried to feed him Veritaserum.' Ron looked impressed. 'I persuaded him not to. Neville wanted to know if he'd been there the night that his parents were tortured.' There was an uneasy quiet. 'He was,' said Jane. 'But only because he'd been sent to find them.'

'Neville attacked Snape?' said Ron, still awed.

Jane shook her head at him.

At the House on Grimmauld Place, Tonks started to lead Jane up to her own room on the top floor. The warm yellow of the gaslights made the entrance hall seem almost welcoming and Harry gave Jane a smile of encouragement, grateful that the portrait and the house-elf-heads were gone, and then Snape came barrelling out of the library. Jane almost fell down the stairs to throw her arms around her father and this time he didn't try to pry her off. He was getting better at the parenting thing, Harry decided.

Snape's eyes narrowed. Harry had forgotten that he didn't always need to yell _'Legilimens' _to know what people were thinking. 'Go,' murmured Snape and Jane and Tonks went.

Minutes later the front door swung open. Members of the Order of the Phoenix began to arrive and file into the kitchen. One of the last to arrive was Hestia Jones clutching a parchment in both hands. Snape took the parchment and read it, then handed it to Moody who studied it gravely. Then all three went into the kitchen and shut the door behind them.

Extendible ears produced a hubbub without distinguishable speech until there was a sudden roar of 'Quiet!'

There could be no doubt that Snape was good at what he did: the noise stopped instantly. 'I know them,' he stated. 'They'll take him apart. When did we become the kind of people who would leave one of our own to face torture?'

Muttering ensued.

'If we hand Skelper over to the Aurors it will bring down the Ministry,' said Snape. But if that is our intention there are other ways in which this might be achieved. We have no choice but to agree to the exchange.' The muttering became acquiescent. 'Send the owl,' said Snape. 'Right now it would be best if everyone were to return to whatever they were doing before absences are noted.'

The meeting broke up rapidly, with Percy Weasley leading the throng out of the house. Harry went into the kitchen to find Snape talking quietly with Arthur and Molly Weasley, Moody, Lupin and Tonks.

'What's happening,' said Harry.

'Fudge has offered to exchange Black for Skelper,' said Snape. 'The Auror who tried to kill you.'

'When?' asked Harry.

'Nine o'clock on Platform 9 ¾.' Snape turned to Moody. 'Keep Skelper here until I get back

_I'll see Sirius in about two hours . . ._ thought Harry. _But why would . . . ? _ 'Why?' he asked Snape.

'I thought it might be amusing to occupy the moral high ground for once,' said his guardian. 'No to mention avoiding the embarrassment of being blackmailed by the werewolf.'

'Yes,' said Harry, glancing at Lupin in surprise, 'he would . . . wouldn't he?' For a moment he was delighted that Lupin had such an effective weapon and then he was utterly ashamed. Staring at the floor he could feel only relief that he did not have to choose between his godfather and Jane's safety. No wonder Snape had hidden her existence.

A hand rested lightly on Harry's shoulder and he looked up to meet Snape's dark eyes. 'Piss poor friend if he wouldn't,' said Snape and Harry blinked in astonishment. 'Harry,' said Snape, 'I want you to stay here. Trust me.'

Harry nodded and Snape swung open the front door and swept out into the night. 'Chin up,' said Tonks and then followed him.

Harry shut the door behind them and then went to sit on a step near the bottom of the stairs and tried to distract himself by wondering how Professor McGonagall was getting on with the Ministry at Hogwarts. Jane came silently down to sit beside him. 'What happened?' she asked. Harry told her. 'He's up to something,' said Jane.

Harry had to agree. Snape had seemed almost happy. Ginny sat down on Harry's other side. Hermione and Ron sat on the stairs behind them and, silently, they all waited.

'It's nearly a half past eight,' said Hermione, unnecessarily, as Lupin and Moody came into the hallway.

'Where the hell is Snape?' growled Moody. 'I'd better make a Portkey.' Only magical means could now take Skelper to the rendezvous on time.

_Where is Snape? _Harry asked himself. As the minutes had elapsed his fears for his guardian had grown. He could feel Jane trembling beside him and put his arm around her. Finally, as an ominous rumbling in the grandfather clock announced the imminent striking of the half hour, the front door crashed open.

The entry was typically Snape's but the body wasn't. A wicked smile spread over the stranger's face as he put a small cage onto the floor. 'Snape?' asked Lupin as the chimes faded.

In answer the new arrival drew his wand and turned the cage into a coin. On the floor a small cat seemed scarcely able to contain the fury in its tiny black body.

'I though the mutt might appreciate a change of perspective.' Snape drawled, his voice strange but recognisable.

'That's Sirius?' Lupin caught the cat mid spring and was clawed for his pains.

'_Finite incantatum!' _said Snape and the small cat became a large dog that became a man. Sirius Black was as ragged and filthy as when he had first escaped from Azkaban and his rage seemed to have grown along with his body. It was as well that Lupin had not let go of him.

'Only this time. And I caused only enough damage to get you hospitalised so that we could acquire the Saint Mungo's Portkey,' explained Snape. As he spoke the Polyjuice began to wear off. Completely ignoring the unpleasant effects of transition, Snape strode into the library, followed by Sirius, Lupin and everyone else.

'You went into Azkaban to get Sirius Black?' demanded Moody, incredulously.

Snape took a moment to complete the transformation by re-transfiguring his clothing back to the Muggle garments he'd been wearing. 'I did,' he said. 'I am familiar with several delayed action poisons that will destroy a body completely. So are they. Fortunately they are in the habit of obtaining their supplies from Saint Mungo's, much to the annoyance of the staff there. It was quite easy to abduct their man Smith and take his place. Smith is still sleeping off the effects of a recreational potion and will remember nothing. As you are aware, I am familiar with Azkaban's interrogation facilities.' Moody was avoiding Snape's eyes. 'Interrogation . . . I interrogated Skelper and as you can see he is undamaged.' The errant Auror crouched in a corner of an enlarged cage trying very hard not to be noticed.

Sirius was a little calmer now, although Lupin still had his arms around him. 'Regulus died as a result of your interrogation,' he stated.

Snape turned very slowly to face him. 'Who told you that?' he asked and Harry had never heard anything so cold.

The answer dripped into the silence. 'Bellatrix.'

'Bellatrix tortured your brother,' said Snape heavily. 'When it became obvious that he was dying, I was sent for and I did what the Dark Lord told me to do. I gave him Veritaserum knowing that it would kill him. Quickly and quite painlessly. It was the only thing I could do for him and I was punished for it.' Snape turned away. 'Regulus Black was my friend.'

'Show me,' demanded Sirius. Harry noticed that the penseive was still on the desk where he had seen it last.

'You don't want to see . . .' began Snape.

'Show me!'

Snape approached the penseive, put his wand to his head, drew out a memory and dropped it, sparkling, into the bowl. As Harry moved towards it, Moody caught his shoulder to stop him. Sirius leant forward and disappeared into the light that erupted from the swirling liquid surface. Lupin followed him in.

Snape sat down at the desk and rested his chin on his hands. Jane went around the desk to put her hands on her father's shoulders. Black eyes met Harry's. 'Tonks has warned the Aurors. Whoever turns up on Platform 9 ¾ will be arrested. If you can keep your head below the parapet you're probably safe for a while, at least from the Ministry. Skelper's testimony and Black's continued existence will bring down Fudge's regime in a matter of hours. The Aurors were not at all pleased by the Silencing Orders regarding Pettigrew'

'Thank you,' said Harry and then swallowed. 'That doesn't seem anything like enough for what you've done.'

Snape smiled and this time it was a smile. He leant back in his chair and, apparently of its own volition, his left hand travelled up to rest over Jane's. 'My enemy owes me a life debt and Nymphadora Tonks thinks that I'm wonderful,' he said quietly. A surprisingly gentle smile became mordant. 'I will also have the pleasure of informing Black that I have adopted you.'

'You . . . ?' Harry decided that he wanted to hear the sneaky reptile say it. 'You _broke into Azkaban_ to rescue Sirius just so that you could gloat?'

'That had not, in fact, occurred to me,' said Snape, in a voice like thick silk velvet. 'However . . . '

'Now that you come to mention it . . .' continued Jane. Both grinned and Harry found himself smiling. This wasn't 'Snape the Bastard' or perhaps it was, given the cumulative effects of a lover, the presence of his daughter and having both Voldemort and the Aurors off his back.

Harry heard the front door open and Snape stood up. 'One more thing to do,' he said lazily. Harry followed him into the hallway. _'Petrificus totalis!' _

Percy Weasley dropped.

Immediately wands were drawn and the impact of Percy's fall softened. Other wands were pointed towards Snape but no spells were cast.

'Arthur?' Arthur Weasley nodded. The former Potions Master drew a phial from his pocket, knelt and emptied it into Percy's mouth. Then he stood up. _'Finite incantatum!'_

'Bastard,' spat Percy Weasley, sitting up. 'Bloody . . . bastard.' His father helped him as he stumbled to his feet shaking his head as if to clear it. 'I'm sorry.'

Arthur Weasley put his arms around his eldest child. 'It's our fault,' he said. 'Skelper said . . . We thought we knew what they were like, but "Imperius", backed up by potions. . . I'm sorry, Percy. ' The embrace became an arm around Percy's shoulders. 'How much do you remember, son?'

Percy rubbed at his forehead. 'It's beginning to come back. Bloody Fudge!'

'He's finished,' said Arthur.

Percy shuddered. 'Git,' he said.

'I think that we could both do with a drink,' said Arthur, proudly guiding his son towards the kitchen where Molly Weasley would undoubtedly be waiting impatiently. Harry realised that she had not wanted to witness what had just happened.

Snape turned to Harry. 'I've to deliver Skelper to the Aurors. You go and wait in the kitchen. Give your godfather the opportunity to collect himself.'

Harry nodded. 'Do you know what's happening at Hogwarts sir?'

'It seems that the Ministry of Magic have been in receipt of some Further Education and it may be quite some time before some of them leave. And Draco Malfoy is now ahead in the Interhouse Indoors Mass Tag Quiddich, the better part of the last hour having taken place in the dungeons, and yes, Mr. Weasley, it will probably still be going on tomorrow, and I imagine that the Ministry can be persuaded to pay for most of the repairs. Jane?'

'I'm ok. We were worried about you.'

'Go on then,' said Snape. Harry put an arm around Jane's shoulders and followed the others.

In the kitchen Molly Weasley was busy fussing over Percy who seemed embarrassed, especially after the rest of the Weasley tribe arrived.

'Percy,' said Harry, 'I never did thank you, did I?'

'For what?' put in Bill.

'Getting me out of the Ministry,' said Harry and settled back while Percy explained the stroke of genius that had at once located Harry and transferred him out of the fortress that was the Ministry of Magic's London Office. Getting into the Ministry, he discovered, was the easy part.

Sirius and Lupin came into the kitchen, Sirius' cleanliness emphasizing his emaciation, and Molly quickly ladled a cup of broth from the stew and put it on the table for him, even though dinner was nearly ready. Sirius finally released his bony hold on Harry, sat down at the table, picked up the cup in both hands and sipped the soup. 'How are you Harry?' he asked.

'I'm fine.'

'Snape's . . . adopted you?'

Harry tried not to feel guilty about the rigidity of Sirius shoulders. 'Yes. They were afraid that if the Ministry got hold of me I wouldn't survive. Looks as if they were right.' Sirius still wasn't looking at Harry. 'Snape and Jane took me in so there was already a bond. Just papers to be signed.' Harry paused. 'He's been pretty decent.'

Sirius' eyes wandered to Jane and then he turned his attention back to his soup.

_Snape's been more than decent_ thought Harry.

The memory of a summer afternoon returned as though preserved in honey:_ the sun hot in the sky and Harry, Jane and Tonks resting in the cool, green shade where the edge of the pine forest met the beach._

_Jane sat up, twigs and sand in her hair. 'He's a bloody awful father; he's winging it. Every now and again he gets this look in his eyes and you can see he's completely lost the plot. He simply does not know what he's supposed to do next.'_

_Sitting with her back against a tree, Tonks swallowed some more of her drink. 'He's trying.'_

'_Yes,' said Jane, 'he does. I thought . . .' Her fingers combed some of the debris from her hair. 'I thought he'd invented Arithmancy, just to amuse me, but it's more like he's reinvented himself. He's faking it, but he's wouldn't do it if he didn't care._

In his own abrasive manner Snape had acted as though he cared, even after Voldemort had gone. Even when there had been no one else there apart from Harry.

'Actually,' said Harry, 'he's been pretty good to me. How are you, Sirius?'

'Ok,'

Harry swallowed. 'What happened to you?'

'I fell in the Chamber of Mysteries. I woke up in Azkaban.'

Harry felt sick. 'How long?'

'Months.' Sirius put the cup down. 'So Harry,' he said 'why don't you tell us what happened?'

'Where shall I start?'

'Start with the Chamber of Mysteries.'

As Harry told his tale, Sirius gradually began to relax and Hedwig's persecution of Snape drew a faint smile. But even omitting certain events, most particularly the incident involving Jane's store cupboard, Harry's story took a long time and Molly set the dinner aside to stay hot.

Snape and Tonks came in just as Harry was describing Voldemort's unfortunate demise. They were followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt and a female Auror whom Harry did not recognise. As Arthur poured them all a glass of wine, Shacklebolt shook Sirius gently by the shoulder. 'Got you,' he rumbled, 'and if you don't register as an animagus in the next twenty-one days you are in deep, deep trouble.'

'You look bloody awful,' said the unknown Auror kissing Sirius' cheek and dropping a small pile of paperwork onto the table in front of him.

'Good to see you too, Bel,' said Sirius affably, leaning back and flipping the papers straight under the table. As they all sat down, Harry noticed that Tonks had a tight hold of her companion's arm. Snape couldn't leave without a fuss. Eventually he took a sip of the wine. Tonks only let go of Snape after Harry had finished his story and dinner had been served. Snape looked up from the plate of stew in front of him to challenge Sirius who gazed levelly back.

'Who has the "Star of Grace" now?' Sirius asked.

'Draco Malfoy,' replied Snape.

Sirius smiled with satisfaction and Snape noticed Harry's puzzlement. 'The talisman only protects the bearer incidentally,' he explained.' It can't make you do anything you wouldn't otherwise, but it makes it more likely that your decisions serve to protect those who are affected by them. It was for this reason that it was gifted to the church during a period of religious persecution.'

'Why did Riddle want it? It couldn't have been any use to him,' asked Sirius.

'Propaganda, it would be unavailable to anyone else, and he'd had the idea that it could be destroyed and used in a Potion.'

'Could it?'

Snape shrugged. 'I would not have liked to attempt it.'

Regulus' courage had given the talisman to Snape and saved Harry and now Voldemort was gone. Clearly this had also been Sirius' thought as he was silent for several minutes after the meal began.

'I imagine that Draco ascribes Harry's success against Riddle to the stone?' Sirius said finally.

'He does,' replied Snape.

'And he controls the Malfoy fortune?'

'He will.'

Sirius smiled again. 'Excellent.'

Dinner was as good as ever. As the table was being cleared, Tonks excused herself and took Snape and Sirius outside into the garden. Lupin intercepted Harry. 'I imagine that she's reading the riot act,' he said. 'You might want to stay well out of the way.'

'Yeah. Tonks trashes trolls,' smirked Fred or George, 'although . . . was she . . . I mean, Snape?'

Harry shot him a warning glance. 'Tonks said that he was one of only four people who recognised her whatever she looked like and the only one who didn't care.'

'He's certainly no Guilderoy Lockhart,' said Hermione thoughtfully.

'I think that what you fail to realise is that most people are actually terrified of Tonks,' said Lupin turning to Jane. 'Come to think of it, most people are pretty scared of your father.'

Harry remembered a red handbag and a vulture trimmed hat. 'Not to mention the resident werewolf,' he said.

Lupin smiled ruefully. 'Or the infamous Harry Potter.'

Harry leant his face against the window. As his eyes adapted to the dark he could see Tonks, with her arm around Snape's waist, facing Sirius, all of them looking relaxed. The barking of Sirius' laughter, made faint by the glass, was the signal for Tonks to let go of Snape and hug Sirius, after which the men shook hands, stiffly but more definitely than had been the case when they had done so at Dumbledore's insistence, and then all three turned back towards the house.

Harry turned away from the window, back to the brightness and warmth of the kitchen and found Ginny standing beside him. 'Are you infamous, Harry Potter?' she asked in mock reproach.

'Oh, very . . . very infamous,' said Harry, trying not to laugh as Hermione accidentally brushed against Ron and Ron, to the delight of his bothers, turned scarlet.

For the first time in his life he was quite, quite certain that it would be alright.


	18. Not quite an epilogue

'Harry?'

'Oh. Hello Sirius.' Harry sat up, blinking.

'What are you doing here in the dark?'

I didn't want to break up the party, and I was feeling tired, so I thought I'd just lie down in the library for a while. Must have fallen asleep.' Harry began to fold up the blanket that someone had placed over him. 'What time is it?'

'Four o'clock in the morning. Near enough. The Wizengamot have indicted Fudge for Conspiracy to Murder and Perverting the Course of Justice. There'll be trial, but it's just a formality. I've been cleared,' Sirius sat down beside Harry, 'and you can come and live with me whenever you want.'

'Oh.' Harry was surprised to discover that he was disappointed. 'What did Snape say?'

'Doesn't really matter what he says,' replied Sirius cheerfully. 'I've got the Black fortune behind me and he can't afford to oppose us. And that thing on his left arm won't help him. He won't dare say anything.'

'Sirius,' said Harry, 'he saved your life.'

'Only so he could gloat.'

'To please Tonks,' said Harry.

Sirius face darkened. 'She'll see sense. I don't know what that bastard did but . . .'

'She seduced _him_,' said Harry.

'Yeah, right,' sneered Sirius. 'I don't think so.'

Remus Lupin came into the room. 'So what does he say?' he asked.

'Tonks seduced Snape,' said Harry. 'I'd gone downstairs for a cup of tea and I heard Snape coming towards the kitchen and so I . . . I hid in the cupboard. Jane had said that if I stayed out of his way he's probably stay out of mine. He believed that when it was all over, he'd end up in Azkaban again. Last time they tortured him. He couldn't make a full disclosure because of Jane. He asked Tonks if she'd really give up her career and her life to protect him and she said yes; told him to use Legilimency. And then they . . .'

'What?' demanded Sirius belligerently.

'And then they made love,' said Harry. Both Sirius and Lupin stared aghast. 'And then Snape opened the door and found me in the cupboard,' Harry continued wretchedly. 'He just took the tea out of my hands, shut the door and acted as if I wasn't there.'

'He used to do that when we were at school sometimes,' murmured Lupin. 'Just pretend it wasn't happening.' He turned away. 'Bloody hell!'

'Sirius, don't get me wrong,' said Harry, his throat tightening, 'I love you, but I'll do nothing to hurt him.

'What's he done to you Harry?' demanded Sirius.

_This is all wrong _thought Harry, desperation tightening his chest. 'He's been good to me, Sirius. Please don't fight with him.'

Cursing, Sirius stood up and started angrily toward the door. He was prevented from leaving by Lupin. 'Sirius, the Ministry had Harry sealed in a coffin. There is no way we'd have got him out without Snape. He was the one who asked the house elves to help.'

'The runes forced him to help, just as they force you to obey him, Harry,' snarled Sirius. 'The sooner they're destroyed the better.'

'No,' said Harry, alarmed. Apart from anything else, the runes protected Jane. Sirius turned in disbelief and then stormed out.

'I'll speak to him,' said Lupin, following.

Harry curled up on the chaise longue, wondering how it had all managed to go wrong so quickly. He could hear shouting in the hallway and then the door was thrown open as Lupin forced Sirius backwards into the library.

'I really think you should apologise,' said Lupin.

'To Snivellus? You must be out of your mind!'

'Harry,' said Lupin. If we could have a moment?'

Harry went out of the library and shut the door behind him. In the hallway, Snape was standing with an arm around Jane, who seemed upset. Tonks appeared to be blocking the front door.

'I'm sorry,' said Harry.

Snape turned. 'I really don't think it's for you to apologise, Harry,' he said. 'As I understand it, you chose to defend me. Perhaps I was unwise . . .' Snape considered the floor. 'Azkaban leaves its mark.' Letting go of Jane, he came to stand before Harry. 'Harry, you know why I chose to adopt you. You should also know that I do not regret the necessity.' Snape's hands came up to rest on his shoulders. 'Leave, or stay here, as you wish. If you call, we will come for you.'

Harry had thought Snape's black eyes like tunnels. Now they made him think of dark water. He had no idea what lay beneath the surface. _I'm a Gryffindor _thought Harry, and then he pushed forward and put his arms around the man who had both challenged and protected him for years. _Your choice, _thought Harry bending his head onto Snape's shoulder, breathing the warm masculine scent. Snape had stopped breathing. Harry could hear the man's heart and felt fingers tightening on his shoulders. If Snape pushed him away, he would accept that.

Snape took a deep breath and his hands left Harry's shoulders. A decision had been reached.

Then Harry felt a gentle pressure between his shoulder blades. Eyes closed, he enjoyed the sudden and completely new experience of feeling utterly safe. Snape's other hand was now resting against the back of his neck, Jane's arm was around his waist and the knowledge of acceptance and protection sang through his blood. That runes and Blood Magic were a part of this made it no less real and no less wanted.

'Sirius,' said Tonks, after a while, 'the house is mine, right?'

'You can have it,' said Sirius, with feeling. Harry let go of his guardian, only faintly embarrassed.

As Snape moved away from Harry, Tonks tangled her fingers in his clothing. 'Severus, stay. Please. Just for a few days.' She met his eyes and Snape froze.

Tonks' hands slipped upwards, over Snape's black clad torso, to his shoulders and then her fingers travelled up to rest beside his eyes. Unresisting, Snape allowed her to tilt his head down and kiss him. Harry could hear a ticking and plinking as what had been a mosaic acquired three dimensions and rose from the floor. Sirius stared at the snake in horrified fascination. 'That iss ssatissfactory, hissed Nero. Neither Tonks nor Snape appeared to notice the enormous reptile towering over them.

'Er, Tonks,' said Harry.

'Umm?' She seemed dazed.

'Nero said that that is satisfactory.'

Tonks glanced up the snake and smiled. Snape turned to Sirius.

'Her house,' said Sirius bleakly.

'Jane?' asked Snape. She shrugged.

'Harry?'

Harry didn't have to say anything. The grin was hurting his face. 'Very well,' sighed Snape. 'I will need to fetch some things.' He gave Nero a calculating look and then swept out. Tonks closed the door behind him gently.

When the Guardian of the House of Black had sunk back into the floor, Sirius turned to consider Jane.

She stood stiffly, arms folded, soft strands of dark hair drifting across her face. Despite clean hair and her biking gear, she reminded Harry of Snape as he had been in the penseive. _Not surprising_ s_he's angry _thought Harry. Some of the things that he had heard from the hallway had not been nice.

The sound of the clock's ticking was joined by that of Tonks' footsteps as she crossed the hall to stand beside Jane and Harry realised that Jane's stance reflected less anger than wariness. 'Harry hunting for bigger kids,' had been her description of the reason why she had fled her muggle school and Sirius' expression was daunting.

'Oh yes, you're in Hufflepuff,' he breathed. 'How does your father feel about that?'

Jane's chin came up. 'That one Gryffindor is enough?'

For a moment Sirius seemed disconcerted and then he grinned. 'Badgers,' he commented, as though to himself, 'not much for heroics, but for loyalty, stubbornness and sheer bloody-mindedness . . . 'I'm sorry. It's just hard to get used to the idea of him being one of the good guys.'

'Try,' said Jane.

Sirius tried again. 'I don't suppose that you have the least difficulty in seeing me as one of the bad guys?'

'I've seen people I care about crying for you,' said Jane eventually.

Sirius smiled. 'I am very pleased to make you acquaintance, Miss Norton.' He held out one thin hand and, after a few moments, she took it.

Snape was back, within the hour, with a small bag and a bottle.

&

In the kitchen, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Master stood before the fire. 'I would like to propose a toast,' he said.

Jane looked hopeful.

A brief, twisted smile from her father granted permission and Jane and Harry sat down at the table and Tonks got out the glasses. 'So what is that?' asked Lupin as Snape delicately opened the bottle.

'Twenty odd years ago,' said Snape, 'it was old firewhisky. Since then, things have happened to it.' Sirius, Tonks and Lupin were now all paying very careful attention. 'I had intended it to celebrate victory.' The velvet was back in Snape's voice as he poured warm, amber coloured liquid into six glasses.

Harry tilted his glass, releasing an intricacy of scents that made him think of bird and sun filled woods and then Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Snape's odd smile re-surfaced. 'Confusion to our enemies,' he said.

* * *


End file.
